Trauma
by Angela-Bennet
Summary: After the retake of Winterfell and the defeat of Ramsay, a wedding is forced upon Sansa and the newly appointed King in the North; Jon. But it isn't plain sailing, Sansa and Jon both carry the trauma of the past month. Sansa is scared of intimacy, and Jon is all too keen to test his resurrected body. Davos is sympathetic, and Melisandre loves to pry (Warning rating will become M).
1. Chapter 1

Started writing this in February, and so far have wrote 14 chapters. But tell me what you think? **I should point out there is a reason why I keep referring to the septon as conductor, because half of the ceremony is of the old gods.**

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Sansa must have looked apprehensive, that wasn't her intention. She normally had the gift of composure; she was able to mould her face into that of someone devoid of will. Submission had kept her alive for so long. And now, a time Sansa should feel safe, she felt the strain. Perhaps it was a glorious break down, after years of abuse. But this shouldn't be happening now; this was her wedding day, her third to be exact. They say third time's a charm.

Her ladyship was being chaperoned towards the godswood by a man she had only just become acquainted with, he seemed nice enough. But this man had been as insistent as the others who had called for her to be wed. She dwelled on how this was an improvement to her situation; how not only would she be safe, she should have a good rapport with the person she would belong to. But they would never be husband and wife. That was why she was apprehensive, this was political, if not that, this was their way of putting a wax seal on her, and so she couldn't be used by anyone else. To keep her safe supposedly, or take away another's advantage, a _nd that's political too_.

Sansa's recently betrothed gave off an air of unease, which surely mirrored her own. Those grey eyes looked as sad and as stormy as ever. To her, this clearly wasn't what he wanted, it reminded her of her wedding to Tyrion. It was devoid of passion, and held so much awkwardness, and a few apologetic glances. _Well he isn't Ramsay._

She spied their guests close in around them, as she glided under the canopy of trees, _perhaps to hinder any chance of escape?_

A leather glove took her hand, and she was drawn back to the heart tree and her betrothed. He had big hands, _though, hadn't he always?_ Her hands had grown from dainty and childlike, to long fingered. There was a murmuring and chuckling behind them, and Davos, the man that had escorted her suddenly spoke. "Hang on, lad, I haven't officially given her away yet."

Jon sheepishly released her hand. "Sorry, first time." He gently returned her hand to her side.

"I admire his keenness." Further chuckling ensued. Sansa couldn't believe how the kafuffle in such an important ritual had defused the tension.

The man conducting the ceremony grimaced "Enough, this isn't a play!"

Sansa hadn't been smiling before, but she was now, and the very hand that had been returned to her- she used to mask her face.

"Ser Davos, if you please- who comes before the gods this night?"

"You've answered your own question." Davos jibbed, but quickly realised how he was playing right into the hecklers' hands. "Ser Davos Seaworth, of house…. Seaworth." _Oh dear._ He didn't know how to start, he could see the conductor shaking his head."-The knight of….Onions?" Sansa was sure she could hear swearing. "Give away my…." He looked at Sansa, he finally seemed to twig what he was supposed to say. "Oh- my liege's cousin." _Questionable_. "Sansa of house Stark, trueborn of Winterfell has come to ask for blessings from the gods in her union with…." He looked annoyed with himself, he had said it in the wrong order. "Our new King, whom I would say is a good match…that's if he does wish to claim her…." _Strange question_. With hesitation he retreated, leaving Sansa's hand to be taken for the second time by Jon, she noted this time his hands were bare, Davos's slip up had given him time to remove his gloves.

The conductor didn't call Davos back to do it properly, since he had said everything- despite it not being in the correct way.

Sansa couldn't look at Jon, at that particular moment- she was sure she would read from his expression how much of a farce this was. She instead looked at the conductor's feet disappearing into the snow. She should be standing before a septon, her mother would have wanted this. She finally looked up when he asked her a question.

"I take this man." Lady Stark said automatically, as if someone had poked her. She heard Jon expel air, as if he had just realised this was going ahead. She looked at the weirwood weeping for them. _Well, that's what it was doing_. She turned her head upon feeling her hand being raised along with Jon's. To her surprise their hands were being bound like in a faith of the seven ceremony, and a tweaked verse was being uttered. _He is really allowing him to do that?_ Jon smirked, setting her at ease. _So he knew what was to come?_

"Look upon one another and say the words."

It was highly unorthodox to speak another faith's words in front of a heart tree. They turned, their hands loosely bound. Their eyes met and she couldn't help but feel they had been raised up high into the sky and were poised to be dropped straight into a bed… of snow.

"Father….Smith….Warrior….Mother." Sansa looked at the storm in his eyes, he was trying so hard to remember "-Maiden….Crone….Stranger ." And she noted he was trying to keep in time with her, since he was staring avidly at her mouth.

"I am hers. And she is mine. From this day… to the end of my days." He appeared to find that part the easiest. She was relieved he had succeeded, his face looked less harsh. He inclined to the septon. _Well the conductor_. "Done."

Her slight smile soon left when she realised he was probably relieved the farce was over. Sansa felt like she had been doused with cold water. She found everyone staring at them with a look of triumph. Davos pressed down onto her shoulders, he was encouraging her to honour the King's faith and pray for blessings from the old gods. _At least it wasn't Rhollor_. Jon had angled his cape and sword to one side so he could kneel, bringing Sansa with him. _It only seemed fair._ The snow moistened her knees as she closed her eyes and tried to word her silent prayer.

 _Make our marriage, a kind and safe marriage._ _Let us be content_. She took a peek at her new husband, he was still deep in prayer. She'd better try harder, if he was putting in a good effort. _Um…Give us blessings… make us strong for the fight ahead._ She grimaced. _The fight in the coming war, not a fight between us, of course._ She gandered at Jon again, he was still asking for blessings, his face scrunched up, as if he was pleading with the gods. _Perhaps he was asking for the gods favour in the upcoming battle as well?_ She closed her eyes again. _Give him strength to succeed in his endeavours._ _Allow him to triumph against evil._ She had to pad her prayer out more. _Help me honour him, give me courage. Make me as strong as my mother, make me-_ Jon was pulling her to her feet. - _Amen._

Sansa felt the urge to step back as Jon moved towards her, but her ladyship remained perfectly still, her face didn't betray her as his hands rose up. They levelled with her neck, and she realised he was only unthreading her cape, which Davos then removed from her. _Oh_. She felt silly not recognising something she had already gone through. The air was cold and crisp, and she welcomed her new cloak that she was anointed with. Jon swept it up and around her, his thumbs grazed her neck as he tried to make it secure. Her neck was a sensitive feature of hers, callous fingers on delicate skin was ticklish, she developed goose pimples as the contact continued since the weight of the cloak made it pull away, and Jon fought with it to keep it on. She crossed her hands so she could hold it on, ending the hassle. "Thank you." Though she wasn't sure why, it was part of the ceremony.

She expected the man at the tree to say something final, to confirm them as man and wife. But a rapturous applause broke out among their guests. Sansa didn't understand how she forgot they were there, they had all brought her here, to bear witness. But it terminated the ceremony, and reminded her that northern folk needed no pomp to wed people.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for your reviews, I'm having trouble accessing them on the site, but please feel free to write them- I will get them eventually.**

 **I was thinking of uploading this in the book section also, I wonder if you can put stories up twice.**

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The banquet was a modest one. After all, there was a war on. The head table held the majority of the food, she figured this was to give the newlyweds strength. But it could merely be because there was a King at the table, she was frequently reminded when someone passed by and raised their goblet 'My King and Queen.' _Oh yes, she herself was royalty_. But for a good 40 minutes they were left to their own devices. _Why was this so hard?_

Sansa hardly touched a morsel, but she did sip some wine. It was a relief to no longer be the centre of attention, people were mingling- and some were simply dining and chatting with their mouths full. She cast her eye over some of the small folk, there was a red bearded man among them, who ate like a beast, staring at everyone with suspicion. An obvious wildling, they took advantage of the food available. Davos strangely was subdued during proceedings, covering his goblet every time a servant approached, this man was a talker and yet he was sitting there staring silently at his king. She followed his eye and noticed Jon fingering a pool of wax at the foot of a candle, he even dared to stray to the flame, testing its heat. "Do you see something in the flame, your grace?" Sansa inquired, herself fascinated by the flame.

His curls danced as he cocked his head to her. "Your grace?- Aren't we equals?- Sansa you don't have to be so formal, you're my wife."

It was a touching thought. "You are still my King, you rule over us all." She saw his finger pass through the flame. "Does it hurt?"

"It feels hot." He said simply. Doing it again, and again. "My skin reddens, but it doesn't blister. But before- it would, before I knew. It must be all in the mind." He dipped the finger in his wine and put it to his lips, his eyes lingered on her for a moment.

Sansa wondered if his thick callous skin had made a barrier, maybe he would not feel the warmth of human contact. She recalled what Davos had told her after the resurrection. _A piece of his soul will have broken off, he might not be the same._ She had known this from the moment of their reunion, his energy was off, despite him being pleased to see her again. But a sickening dread had come to his features when they had parted from their tight embrace, one they had never enacted before.

Sansa hadn't known him well enough beforehand, he had been her bastard half-brother, they had spoken every other day during childhood, and then it was only in short bursts, on trivial things. They didn't play, nor did they embrace like siblings do. She would see him train with her brothers, play with her sister, and have heart to hearts with her father. They behaved like they were distant cousins, perhaps they were? _That's if the rumours are true, but until then, they were still half siblings_.

The match had been a weed like idea, which choked all other match proposals, people didn't seem to care they were siblings. _They were treating Jon as if he was an entirely new person_. _Dead men don't have siblings_. But the crowd that had elected him as King saw him as something else...A Targaryen. Winterfell at the moment belonged to her, she was a Stark. _But which were their kingdoms?_ She emptied her lungs on that note. _She knew nothing._ If she knew him like Arya did, they would have been no problems. She had been too much like her mother Catelyn, faithful to what she knew. But surely if that were the case; wouldn't her relationship with Jon mirror that of Catelyn and Petyr?

She had been staring into the space that occupied the side of her husband, not paying attention to the dark expression on the King's face. "You're bored, love."

"Hm?" She set her eyes on him again. "No, I'm…pensive."

"Isn't he your favourite minstrel?"

Her husband gestured at the man singing on the elevated part next to their table, she smiled sadly. "My favourite minstrel died during the war, perhaps he should have spent more time practising with a sword than….minstrel-ling." She toyed with her armrest to sever the burning eye contact he was giving her. "I not accustomed to music anymore." She didn't know why she had said it, it wasn't true. Music was fine. She just couldn't bare the singing, she found it reminded her of darker times; bad weddings and sieges. It wasn't escapism anymore, it wasn't romantic, and it didn't stir any feelings in her. _Perhaps she had died, and had been brought back too._ "I'm sure our guests are enjoying him."

"I recall a time you once tried to hold a minstrel against his will."

"I think that's called foreshadowing. I learnt my lesson." She said disinterested, accidently pulling a stud out of the armrest and quickly discarding it.

"I could have you hanged for that act of vandalism." She gave herself a crick in the neck turning her head rapidly to her King. Jon must have read her alarmed expression. "Sorry, that was a bad jest. I won't do that again- at least not until you have gotten to know me." One of those hands of his moved to her, it danced over the embroidery on her sleeve, and everything seemed to stop, as if he had called a terrible verdict. The sound muted, it wrung in her ears- she could almost hear the crackling of a pyre, or an axe whistling through the air, or a hangman's trapdoor. Sansa stared at her sleeve as if waiting for it to catch fire.

"Do you hang people often?- When will be the next time I hear it. Though I hear beheading people does the trick." Still not quite over the tasteless joke, though after her own comment, she was a hypocrite.

"I was trying to engage you." He soothed. "You have to admit- it did wake you up." The hand dropped right onto her sleeve this time, and it gave her very little comfort, it was heavy and hard- and it clamped onto her like a manacle "Smile." He said with a dominant edge.

She frowned at this, before obliging. It was a toothless smile, full of uncertainty. _Well, it was a king's command._ "How do you like your new powers?" She drawled, trying to be polite.

"I wouldn't call them powers- I still haven't learned to control the pain." Jon not understanding her actual question, he was about to fixate on the candle again, until his fair queen touched his hand, something she half expected to be cold.

"I meant your Kingship."

"Oh..." He withdrew from the candle. "I was chosen by my people, for my people. It's easier to rule over people who elected you." It rolled out of his mouth as if he had said it for the hundredth time. "An obligation." His hand turned over under hers, his fingers curled up and around the maiden's hand.

"Do you like it, though?"

"-Do you like being Queen?" He retorted shrewdly.

She could see the storm clouds again. It felt like a test. _Was he asking if she liked the idea of being his wife, or having a new responsibility?_ "I was born to be a lady, in training to become a Queen." She shrugged. "I must do what I must."

Sansa saw his mouth move but no sound came out, it could have been a cuss or a simple yes. He withdrew subtly from her, and tucked into some meat at the table. She felt dissatisfied with the response he had given her own, he was either disappointed, or in agreement to her being subservient. _She always did what she must._ _Smart women do as they're told._

She downed her dregs as she spied him tear into an ox. _Oh Lord_. He was behaving like an alpha wolf with a very healthy appetite. Sansa just hoped it wasn't an appetite to mount something.

"My queen." That was Davos behind her, she inclined her head, then bobbed it in acknowledgement. She didn't expect him to converse with her at that moment- since many folks that night had been addressing the royals, and then scooting off. _They seemed scared of their new King too_. "Don't dwell on the future, just think of now, and right now you need nourishment."

Her chair squeaked as she twisted to him in her seat. "It's not for a queen to stuff her face, I have eaten." She put gently, so as not to draw any attention. "Don't worry I'm not going to collapse, this is down to growing accustomed to long trips, I can ride a horse through the night without stops, and not as much as wobble as I dismount." She had become accustomed to lying, she just hoped Davos wasn't a mind reader. Though it was afterwards she realised she had just used a bizarre metaphor that could easily be construed as sexual stamina. "Won't you drin-?" She tapped her goblet, her voice nearly conked out. "A drink?"

"Not while I'm on duty, your grace." His head was low and his hands clasped in front of him, like a proper servant, very courteous. She trusted them like this, the ones that stared she couldn't ever feel comfortable around.

"There's really no need to be, you are an advisor, a trusted one- but what advice could you possibly give us tonight?" Davos fidgeted. _Was he hoping she would guess?_ "I don't think its advice our King and I would appreciate." Sansa couldn't have her husband being reminded, and if the guests heard, it might spur them into conducting the bedding ceremony.

"I understand pet, but I think he'll need a firm talking to."

He breezed past her and clapped a hand on his king's chair, she couldn't believe how brazen it was, he was King. Joffrey wouldn't have allowed such a rapid approach by a common man. Sansa opened and closed her mouth, she wasn't about to shush him.

Davos leant over _the alpha_. "Your grace, might I have a word in private?"

"Have several, but is it worth me leaving the table?" Jon tossed down a gnawed bone.

"Yes, in fact you will say- thank the gods I was not at the table when we discussed this."

Jon didn't have to be told twice, he stood from his 'throne', and _it_ groaned in protest.

"Sansa." He uttered gruffly, before he made a swift exit.

She felt the draft from his cape, it left her cold. She hated being alone at a banquet table, this was the first time. Though she had felt the same loneliness at her first wedding in King's landing, to the imp, who turned out to be a kind man. _May he rest in peace._ Little did she know...

A red bearded man was gazing at her, it wasn't hostile from when she had last seen him, but still a bit intense. He was talking into the food he was tearing into. _Only the_ _Gods knew what he was saying about her_. She felt like a peasant that had been left to clean away the scraps, she stared in the direction her husband and Davos had went intently, but wary that they could return with something ghastly. The next few minutes she filled the void with ripping pieces of bread and pecking at them. The more tearing she did, the more crumbs she made- she could make pictures on the table with the bits. A crescent moon, that became a howling wolf.

 _Would it be wise if she left too, in another direction, so as not to disturb them?_ Sansa debated, then arose from her seat, the music suddenly died down and she was left spectating over a crowd of people, watching her _. Right, if King and Queen are no longer present- their party will cease._

 _Speech._ "My lords and ladies, and others faithful to our claim." They were staring. _She needed the gods._ "Let us drain our goblets and….empty the castle stores, I think we have earned it." There were murmurs of agreement. _Be crude_. "While our enemies squat over their chamber pots and deal with trivial court gossip, we dine with the gods favour, for we are to defend the realms of men..." Her mouth was incredibly dry, but she could not drink once she had started, but she did prepare by lifting her goblet from the table, but it was only because she saw Podrick do the elaborate gesture, to guide her. "Let us toast and thank the gods for allowing our castle to remain standing during our ruckus celebrations." Sansa had expected them to wait on baited breath for something more worthy to be added- but instead they howled and cheered like wolves and emptied their goblets simultaneously. Then the minstrel began to sing about a legendary queen- _not her of course, but surely a verse someday will be written about her._ They were probably too drunk to realise that hadn't been the end of her speech, she had intended to improvise more, but she used the descent into madness as her cue to leave. She did not rush, she simply trod the boards as if she was about leap into the festivities. While everybody hugged and sang, she disappeared down a passage.

A door beckoned, which led her out into a courtyard. It was wet and dark outside, as she ambled through churned up mud to get to the centre of the yard. She just wanted to make out the sky. She had heard of a star that burned red, she hadn't seen it- but she heard it brought hope. _Did it have any spare for her?_ There was a bright star just over the castle's chambers, it wasn't red, but it dominated her section of sky. _Gods, give me strength- why do you insist on me being afraid all the time, is this penance for being so foolish before my father's death, so ignorant of possible traitors, being so determined to become a princess?_ "Well you're queen now, sort yourself out." She sighed, it had begun to snow heavily, and she lingered out in the open so she could savour it, in case they headed south- where winter would never come. Little did she know. The snow was settling nicely, disguising the mud.

There was suddenly the sound of crunching snow behind her, Sansa merely glanced over at the dark form that had emerged from the doorway of the passage. He was a mass of black and brown leather, with an occasional clang of cased valyrian steel bumping up against his leg. Jon levelled with her, not saying a word, she detected he was either looking at her or the sky. Neither mattered to her, being outside was a world away from being in, and that moment was the best yet, and allowed her only peaceful thoughts.

After a minute of silence, Sansa manoeuvred her skirts and faced him. Jon actually looked like 'Jon' for the first time in ages. _Well duh, Sansa_. Perhaps it was the snowflakes clinging to his curls, or the fact he was standing how he would when waiting to train, all weight on one leg, the other slightly bowed- making his shoulders uneven, Jon always used to stand like this.

The new king was eyeing her with the same amount of pensiveness. "You made a speech."

She blinked, his face was unreadable. "That I did, and..?" Throwing all protocol to the wind.

The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. "It was a rousing speech, am I told, and yet you waited until I'd buggered off to deliver it." He didn't look too upset about it.

"It was a spur of the moment thing." She left out the part where she had just wanted to leave. "I doubt any of them will remember it by morning, I'm sure you could repeat it- and make it your own." She jested, though she was sure he would be miffed. "Sorry…your grac-"

"-Enough." Jon started. "It feels like your taking the piss…" After a moment- he winced. "Mockery, sorry, I meant to say mockery. I should never 'piss' in front of you." He said crudely, and she didn't think he had noticed.

"I'm not going to force you to pay penance every time you 'piss in front of me'." _That's right, she was going to say it too._ "Any reason for wording it like that?"

He was still reeling with surprise, when Sansa's face split with a smile, Jon followed her, and they were soon chuckling. Which rarely happened in the history of _their_ relationship. _A Shame really._

Jon was the first to calm, leaving only a small smile. That storm once again resided in his eyes, and Sansa got lost in it. "Jon." It came out slightly dazed- like she had posed a question. The king's smile faded. _Don't do that._ The gap between them shrunk when Jon inched forward- Sansa tensed up - looking very lamb-like. He caught it immediately, he blinked and tensed up too. For two seconds they were almost wide eyed, until Jon somewhat flummoxed, chose to go back from where he came down the passage.

 _I could have done something more worthwhile_ , _damn it_. Sansa could have carried on the conversation, maybe go as far as to make a few quips. But she wasn't a quipper, especially not throwing them out left right and centre, one after the other- she wasn't Tyrion. _Damn, he was funny._ She unfortunately was Sansa. Sansa didn't make quips, she didn't engage a man with her words, she wasn't fiesty- she couldn't argue like her sister, or banter like Tyrion, she couldn't fight like any of her brothers.

Her feet had sunken completely in the snow.

Sansa could sew, Sansa could sing, Sansa could dance. Sansa could...smile. So she smiled at nothing, before she cracked and burst into tears. Ladylike, and demure as always, even when she cried. She had nothing to offer as a Queen, nothing but prettiness and compliments. A growl burst from her mouth mid cry. "I hate you, you have wasted your life planning to become somebody's wife." She hushed up at the sound of footfalls on stone coming steadily towards her. Davos ambled out of the passage.

"I don't intend to be anybody's wife, your grace."

"Another funny man." She oozed, trying to recover, but the croak remained in her voice, she dried her eyes with the side of her cloak. "Every court needs one joker."

Their advisor pursed his lips, clearly he didn't agree. "I think we have more than enough." He noticed her puffy face, and everything became clear. "You should never argue at a wedding."

That was a random thought. "Tell that to Walder Frey." She tried to go back into the castle, but Davos gently lay a hand on her. She stared at it like it was a blade. "I wasn't fighting, I haven't said anything, he just stormed off-" She protested, wafting her skirts- to shake off the clinging snow.

"I've already counselled him on how he should conduct himself."

"What, just then?"

"No, before your little speech... which I heard was great, your grace. I wish I had heard it." Davos tried. "Now I'm counselling you. Just behave like you did when you were children."

That was some pretty odd advice. "Is that all you said..?" _They were to lark about like children._ "You are a funny man, Davos." Further wafting ensued. "Kings and Queens can't behave like children." She snorted. "I suppose that's why he stormed off? - I bet he's going to stuff my mattress with sheep dung next." She tried to walk away again.

But Davos stood firm in the passage. "He'd be soiling his own mattress if he did something like that." He looked at her ludicrously. "I didn't mean act like children. Conduct yourself as you would when you knew him growing up, be civil and courteous, I'm not asking you to play husband and wife just yet, give it time."

Sansa nervously squirmed at the words. "Thank you for reminding me." She tried to act as Queenly as her body would allow. "I'm surprised, Davos, you are asking me to give it time- everybody else would be encouraging us to go straight to the bedding. They want this alliance legitimized, why are you suggesting otherwise?" She kept her voice strong.

The knight dipped his head. "Well my Queen, I want what's best for the realm. I want your marriage to be a successful marriage- lay the foundations first before you build a castle. You don't want a 'Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister' situation developing."

She was genuinely surprised. "Thank you." It had come out gently, as if she was about to burst into tears with the sweetness of it all.

"I haven't done anything to warrant that yet, pet."

"But you have, you have told my husband and I to dispense with the tradition in order to build trust in each other." Sansa sandwiched her hands over Davos's mutilated hand. "You have swept away my anxiety, if only you had said this to me earlier."

"Well I did."

"You didn't."

"Well, I wasn't going to." Davos had such a trusting smile, he used his spare hand to pat hers. "It would have been a miracle if you did happily consummate this reunion on the first night, but I doubt you would be as lucky as your mother and father."

Sansa blinked, her eyes wandering to the side. "How much do you know on that?- You weren't exactly...there." She spoke, slightly embarrassed.

Davos looked furtive. "Well...my previous King told me, Stannis and Robert spoke about Ned and Catelyn's first. It is believed their first time conceived Robb."

Sansa didn't need to know this.


	3. Chapter 3

Please inform me of any typos- they're hard to spot. Keep reviewing, hopefully the site will synch them to me, and I'll be able to read them, I would love to read them.

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The celebration ended, once everyone had consumed enough until no man not even the septon was left sober and standing firm. The women cackled, as they danced amongst themselves. The men that had decided to stop knocking back the wine before they passed out, arose and announced. "The bedding is nigh!" There were less than six men still up and about, trying desperately to incite each other to whisk the Queen away to the marital bed. The ladies just danced merrily in circles around the tables, ignoring all plans.

"Good women- attend to your King!" A man tried to point at the man he believed to be the King, he ended up gesturing at some guard. A woman broke off from her circle and fell at the feet of the said guard- and used his clothing to climb up.

"Your grace, you have no beard- wherest thou beard?"

Sansa snorted at the shenanigans, everybody was disgustingly drunk- _a horrid display, a funny display- if only she could have such fun, alas she was the only one sober,_ and it worked in her favour. No one would be able to conduct the ceremony if everyone was blind drunk.

Davos stood near the Queen, and acted as a buffer, in case any man dare lay a hand on her gown to shred it. She looked to her right and found her King resting his chin in his palm, he had propped his elbow on the arm of his chair. Dropping off to sleep, his head bobbing as if he were fighting it. His goblet had been refilled over and over by Davos, and Jon had downed them all but one, which still sat on the table. Sansa slowly stood from her seat "I'm tired, I best retire, have someone bring the King."

Davos cast an eye to Jon. "I would implore your lady folk to escort their King."

Sansa shook her head. "But the men will follow their lead and take me, I don't want to be stripped." They were still bumbling about, the red bearded man was so close- she could smell his pelts. "Tormund, steady." She spoke to him like he was a horse.

"Daughter of Winterfell, you shall be taken this night." _He said that an awful lot._ That's when the singing started. It was the Northman's daughter song. _Oh dear._ She put a chair between her and the assailants.

"Sansa use your voice!" At first she thought the advisor meant sing to them, but Davos raised a hand. "Hang on, men!"

"-I can take myself to bed, thank you very much!" There was sighs of resignation and boos. "But please have someone assist my husband." They probably wanted some female nudity- but they'd have to find that in a brothel. The able men and women of the night managed to winch Jon out of his chair, he protested, and gestured to the door, trying to convince them he can walk himself. But after a minute or so of grinding into a table and chair- they swamped him- half shoving and half carrying him out through the hall's main doors.

Sansa glided through the hall, a couple of yards behind them. Her train had gotten stood on that many times, she was forced to the back of the procession. The Queen could just make out the King's head flopping back, his curls clinging to his face. "He'll strain his neck, support it." She commanded, they raised his head- and she could no longer see the dazed look on his features. She was being shadowed by her advisor, the man that had adamantly reassured her nothing was going to happen. _May the gods bless him._ "When you advised him…" She heard them kick the master chamber's doors in, and then pile through. "Was he in accordance with you?"

Davos furrowed his brows, he looked from the crowd to her. "What do you mean?"

Sansa mirrored him. _How was that a hard question?_ "Did he agree that it was best to leave the bedding for another night?"

Davos nodded. "Eventually."

It was just one word, but it gave her so many doubts, and brought many more questions to mind. They heard bed springs, she guessed they must have chucked him from a great height onto the bed. "I don't think he would go back on his word…" He twirled his finger as a signal for her to turn around, she obliged suspiciously, and he removed her cloak- she went stiff. "Don't worry, it's just for show- your subjects need to believe you are going to fulfil the...well he fulfils you with-"He went all mumbly and embarrassed towards the end, she perfectly understood.

"Of course, but I don't see how they could believe it's still going ahead, they are aware we were once-" She began to whisper, but suddenly did a double take when she saw someone spinning her husband's trousers over their heads. "My husband isn't even fully awake."

"Men don't have to be awake." He said with husk as if he was stifling a laugh. "Did you hear that a man's cock has a mind of its own, and it can at times wake up before he does?" He could tell she was mortified by this information. "Like I said, you probably aren't going to do anything tonight- but everyone would assume if you did, you would be riding him tonight."He gave her a fairly abashed smile. "I wouldn't say that's the best way to do it, since he wouldn't remember anything."

Sansa raised her hand to shush him. "Unless that was why he drank so much?" Her face didn't convey how she felt about that. "So he was definitely in accordance with you?"

"Well according to him, you didn't have to do anything- which I assumed meant, nothing was going to happen." He was vague.

Assumptions. Everybody was making them. So far Davos was telling her he believed Jon would have gone through with it if he had been advised otherwise. "So he doesn't need my compliance." It came out grudgingly, but she wouldn't have said it at all, if she wasn't so anxious. "I bid you goodnight."

"Tell everyone."

Sansa raised her voice to the swarm. "I bid you all goodnight, I hope yours is as... fruitful as mine!"

Davos favoured this out of all the things he had heard that night, he would have retorted if he hadn't been drowned out by a load of whistles and dirty chuckles. Davos managed to herd everyone back to the hall, leaving Sansa in a doorway to her chambers, staring at her King.

Poor Jon, had been partly stripped and half tucked into the bed. Limp and peaceful. _Limp_ _alright_. She assumed he had looked the same when he was dead, before they had brought him back. Back from the dead. _That was certainly a mood killer._ She closed the doors, and there was an ominous boom as they met- sealing her from the rest of the world. There was a spitting noise that came from the embers in the fireplace, it lit the room with an apocalyptic amber, and bathed her husband with a soothing colour, opposed to the deathly pale one. His head suddenly rose from the pillow. Sansa started, a hand on her heart. "Gods."

Jon grinned, blowing a curl from his face. "I thought it had gone quiet."

Slightly irked, she edged around the room, giving her husband a four metre radius, staring at his very wakeful face. He didn't appear drunk anymore, _that's if- he ever was_. Her hand had not left her chest. "Why do that?"

The sheet fell from his torso as he sat up, he propped himself with locked arms. "They would have never left if I had been sober and active, and keenness might have frightened you off." His voice was hoarse as usual when he was quiet. But his broad accent always made him sound hoarse, he took after her father. _But there was a chance it wasn't his father_."Wine, sweetheart?"

The new Queen shook her head. But he still reached for a pitcher of wine to fill two vessels on the side table, his sheet moved further south with his efforts. Sansa remained perfectly still, as if her own movement would pull at the covers as well. He clocked her over the rim of his goblet as he drank deeply.

When the wedding was suggested she remembered he was against it, and now he was taking it in his stride. She believed his calm was probably due to the drink. Sansa recalled this man used to be afraid of girls. _Look at him now_. _But she wasn't a random girl to get bashful over, she had been brought up his half-sister, and his ladyship_ , _surely nothing had changed._ Sansa glanced away- pretending to check out the fire.

"I bet that has been lit for hours, it's stifling in here." She toyed with her sleeves, releasing some of the heat.

As if on cue, Jon arose from the bed, the sheet fell away completely- and he made a definitive move towards her.

Sansa's eyes had flitted to him as he had got up, but soon found their way back to the fire when she realised he was almost naked- although there was some coverage below the waist, known as skivies "I'm surprised it's lasted so long." Changing the subject was easy, but the nudity couldn't be sidestepped. There was warmth that radiated from him, as his form filled her side vision. _Oh Gods_. She swallowed her fear and focused on his face, it was neutral at that moment- as if gauging her reaction. Luckily he was so close she couldn't see _anything_ unless she looked down. "Your grace." She managed, as her heart fought its way out of her chest. He gave a single nasal huff, and brought his hands to her bodice, his finger hooked onto a draw string, Sansa felt its weight and intentions.

"Someone painstakingly kept this fire going, so we would have no need for clothes."

She stared him down, waiting for his face to crack into a smile and for him to say. _'Just joking- you should see your face!'_ It never came, she just saw the storm in those stranger's eyes, one that could break free, destroy the room and leave her dress in tatters. _Nothing was going to happen… you don't have to do anything…_ _lay the foundations first before you build a castle …_ _An obligation…_ _Kings and Queens can't behave like children…_ _their first time conceived Robb._

The bow of the cord of her bodice was undone, and then every stitch was tugged forward, to stretch the bridge between the whale bone. It was pulling away from her skin, threatening to free her bosom. Jon at first seemed interested with what he was doing, but then he fixated on her face- she tried to avoid those probing eyes, despite their need to hold onto hers. She imagined her body felt quite pliant, being as her arms remained by her side as Jon began to lay siege to her dress. His callous fingers crept past the drawstrings and inside the bodice, as if about to forcibly pull it apart. That was when Sansa snapped out of her passive trance, her hands came up to meet his elbows. She wasn't sure what she was going to do; either halt him, or take over herself. The game changer was when Jon, reeking of wine and ale sort her mouth, and she whimpered like a pup that had had its paw stood on. He froze, withdrawing slowly to look upon her.

She didn't know what was worse; the ordeal that had just taken place- how far it would have gone on if she hadn't have made a sound. _That appeared to have bothered him._ Or was the worst of it all the aftermath, the look on Jon's face- a hard stare. If it were an open mouthed stare- she would have been less up-tight. But his mouth was shut, his cupid's bow was less defined. A kingly face he had on, one that would make her throw herself at his feet - just to avoid. _Jon._ She silently begged. The hardness dissolved into an expression she was familiar with, uncertain and cautious- _with parted lips._ His eye-line dipped, probably to look at her state of dress it looked like she had got into a fight with a bear."Change into your nightgown and come to bed."

Sansa didn't believe that was a command, it was more of a gesture, he kept scouring the room, seeing if she did have anything to put on. This was her room, and she saw nothing of hers in it, the King owned everything. _Even her_. Jon finally snared a pile of fabric on a chair and unravelled it- he then chucked it her, she caught it between her arm and bodice, and she held it there for modesty. "That'll be yours, get it on and get into bed…" The urgency in his voice made him sound angry, though it could have been embarrassment, she highly doubted that. _Kings don't get embarrassed. "_ Don't make me send for a maid- you can undress yourself, can't you?" She kept her head low to hide her shame, as she travelled to the room divider.

There were diamond holes in the device, so she felt she had to duck low to give her some privacy- _though if he allowed her this courtesy- why would he try to peek_? Through a gap she spied her husband inspecting the bed. _At least he wasn't inspecting her_. She slipped out of everything, letting it pile up of the floor. Then she pulled the winter nightgown over her head and smoothed it into place. Though she had finished, she didn't know what awaited her _. Listen to yourself, you were brought up with this man, he's not going to…_ Her gulp was audible.

Assumptions, she had been wrong before. People had made promises and broke them. _Joffrey promised he would be merciful._ She winced at that memory, the very reason the family were ripped apart was because she was too dumb to listen to her father's advice. But Sansa was all too eager to listen to Queen Cersei, her former idol, and Joffrey- her first crush.

Sansa peered around the wooden divider. Jon was lounging in the bed, he noticed her peering around immediately, and perked up. "Done?"

She self consciously emerged from behind the screen, and meekly made her way towards the bed, trying her best to ignore Jon watching her. She drew level with him, and cagily folded the wolf skin back so she could clamber in. Sansa left a two foot gap when slithering into bed next to him, she pulled the cover right up to her chin and found a spot to stare at on the canopy. Silence became them.

"…."

"..."

The Queen was sure he was staring at the canopy too. Some rustling broke the stillness, it came from under the blanket, she hoped he was just getting comfortable. "W-what are you doing?"

"Taking off my braies." He huffed, trying to do everything discreetly. But he was lifting her half of the blanket to do so. She had to pat it down, so he didn't see her body. She heard something hit the floor and knew the deed was done. "I heard noble men sleep in the nude." Jon explained, gauging her reaction.

She closed her eyes, _as if that would give her another barrier._ "Never have I heard that."

"It's a little dangerous I must admit. How can a man jump up and defend himself, if he isn't ready?"

"Then why-"

"-Because I've never slept nude, these are the best sheets I've ever felt- I damn well want to feel them. More skin, more contact." He brought his arms over the sheet, pinning it across his chest.

 _More contact._ "I understand." She said simply, but she couldn't relate- she just didn't want to object. "You are King." She sensed him look over, while she burned the canopy with her eyes.

That uneasy stillness was there, the type that could build up a lot of tension and a lot of sweat. He cleared his throat, and she knew he was waiting...for something. The king had begun to drum his fingers on the wolf pelts. She had to do something to quell the heightened energy in the bedchamber- "Goodnight, Jon."


	4. Chapter 4

The site still hasn't synced my reviews- but I know they're there. But thank you for still writing.

Edit; I've noticed all spelling errors I corrected ages ago, have returned, damn it.

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Davos stood poised in the courtyard, he heard the chink of armour and his king emerged from behind a stable. "Your grace." He got in step with Jon, he didn't appear to slow down. "News has travelled fast, we've had a raven from the vale."

"Lord Baelish?- I should have expected him to butt in, he's no longer Sansa's legal guardian, he can't escort her back to vale as a hero-"

"Strangely it wasn't Lord Baelish who wrote."

Jon eased up slightly to a stroll. "Hm."

"Robin, he was distraught not to have had an invitation." Davos implied he didn't believe it himself.

"-Or irked his engagement was disregarded, I take he didn't know about Ramsay. Otherwise he would have sent reinforcements." Jon huffed, pausing just before the gate. "I'm sure someone would have advised him to."

His advisor bowed his head. "Well you certainly had someone." He unrolled the parchment to double check what he had to relay. "He pledges his loyalty to you, never the less….a little late, but this is the vale. They have their heads in the clouds. Apparently they were on the verge of sending troops."

This made Jon smirk. "I'm surprised he wrote at all, I thought Baelish had power there. Surely Petyr had his hand in this, what motivations would he have standing back?"

Davos winced. "Well, I believe he chose to come late, to miss most of the action." His breath hitched in thought. "I'm sorry to say I don't know the man, I'm not familiar with his dealings, I know he was a master of coin, and former ward of your…. Step-mother's father." He struggled. "I don't think he foresaw this arrangement, but the arrangement makes sense, and I can see by the hand in which he wrote- anger in his words, whomever they may be." He saw Jon's eyes flick up, his advisor doubted he was looking up at the heavens, but to the tower where his bride was. It was clear what was on his mind. "How are you this morning?" Davos began, but he was taking a great risk.

Jon met his eye. "How many times do you think I've been asked that?"

 _Be cautious, Davos._ "I'm asked it every morning, perfectly mundane and boring question. Forgive me, your grace." He wasn't sure what he had gained, apart from the sour look on Jon's face. "At least tell me you had a goodnight's kip?"

Jon still looked sour. "I slept."

"Bloody hell, what did you expect?." The advisor had managed to strip the ludicrous tone from his voice. "You won't be as lucky as Ned and Cat."

That struck a chord, the sourness fell from the King's face and was replaced with a mystified look. "I can't believe you just said that…"

"Well you needed it."

A gleam came to Jon's eye. "I needed 'something.'" But it was in all seriousness, devoid of any humour and poise.

 _Though Jon and poise never belong in the same sentence._ "Hey hey... it'll get better. Learn how to become a King first, then be a husband- then you'll get the 'something.'" Davos put the something in quotes, despite the lack of fingers. His King looked out through the gate, the older gent assumed he was studying his Kingdom, but he hoped what he had said had sunk in.

"She's just like Catelyn, you know?" The younger gent revealed wistfully.

"-I bet."

"She looks at me with trepidation." The leather around Jon's hands creaked. "It's that…or inferiority."

Davos didn't expect that. They were big words- especially for a novice, but he could tell by the air they were negative. "I doubt that, your grace. She looks at you quite fondly-"

"You don't know." Jon began to raise his voice, finally looking back at his advisor. "I could say nothing's changed, but even then she didn't look at me as dangerously as that."

 _Look who's talking_. "She was relieved coming to castle black, when she thought you were there… _her last and only brother."_ He mumbled the latter, seeing how it was irrelevant now, and disconcerting. "She was distraught when she found out you had been killed." Davos saw Jon grasping the gate tightly as if about to break it, he was sure if Jon hadn't been wearing gloves, his knuckles would have looked white. "-She was mystified by your resurrection, though, still I don't think she believes you were dead in the first place." -Brushing over the resurrection. He chuckled fondly. "She said you would be a tough man to kill, there is love there. When you first embraced she nuzzled you-"

The king stare was cast down, as if reliving it."-And then everything changed." There was a rattle in Jon's voice, that took his adviser a minute or so to respond. The section of gate Jon had been holding buckled, this concerned Davos. "She was manipulating me, convincing me to take back Winterfell with her sweet words and hand grasps."

"That wasn't manipulation, your grace, she was pleased to see you, but then she remembered she had an important mission, I'd say it was quite important...you needed to rescue-"

"But long before she knew of her brother, she had a hidden agenda." Jon hissed. "I succeeded her mission. She was going to be the lady of the castle, but then a new opportunity was given."

Davos knew he was talking of the union.

Jon continued."You'd have thought a girl that always wanted to be Queen would have threw herself at me." _Sansa was never the type to throw herself, but she skirted by it fluttering her eyelashes._ "She didn't even flirt with the idea, her whole demeanour changed when she found out she was going to be my wife. I on the other hand... could adapt quite easily to the prospect, at least that's what I thought. " He looked up at the tower. "It looks great from a distance, but up close it's dark and full of-"

 _Terrors._ Davos sidestepped this creepy memory. "-I think you mean it's not as easy as it looks. You came to castle black to be a member of the nights watch, it wasn't a coach ride."

The older gent saw the early stages of a snarl. "And that didn't take me anywhere." Jon was so shrewd.

"You learnt how to be a man, you learnt the difference between honour and morality." Davos soothed. "The wildl- the 'free folk' are united with your people…who would have believed it!" He started to get excited, but Jon interjected.

"-It's not permanent, they'll be at each other's throats in no time. And they didn't all attend the wedding…. What does that tell you?"

"-They don't understand the concept of a wedding, some of them were there for the spectacle. They just didn't understand why you weren't stealing the northman's daughter." Davos laughed, he was fond of the songs they sung. "Give her time."

The king finally found something funny, a cheeky smile crept onto that broody face. "Well I killed her former husband, and then married her- that's sort of 'free folk' standards." Before they could pat each other on the back, a squire came to them with haste. "What?"

The man stooped. "My Lor- pardon- Your grace, A Samwell Tarly has returned with some men."

There was a series of looks exchanged, some acknowledging the name- some with confusion. "He's come here?"

"Well, your grace, if he has been told everything- would you stay in that small corner of the kingdom?" Davos suggested. "He's your friend."

"And as his friend; I advised him to go and not return or else he'd be hanged for being a deserter. He's a bloody fool!" Jon shoved by the squire and marched to the main gate, he expected to see Sam and his companions dithering in the courtyard. "Podrick, where the fuck is he?!" He saw movement through the steel and rivets.

"-At the gate, your grace, I was coming to ask if we could let him in?"

"Open the fucking gate!" He roared, and there was no echo of commands- none were needed, the gate keeper raised the gate immediately. The mechanism churned and clunked, then a portly young man bounced in on a stead, flagged by some more leaner specimens. "By eck, it is you!" Jon exclaimed.

Sam fell down from the horse. _Not literally, of course._ "Yes! I knew it." Sam threw his arms around Jon like a damsel. "Jon Snow, I was worried about you, worried you'd get yourself into trouble-"

"-And I did. Good to see ya' Sam." Pulling back from the embrace a little too soon, he could see his company disapproved of such manly affection. He cleared his throat. "And I got myself out. Now then-" Sam looked gormless. "Sam, you need to address me properly."

Sam sobered. "Oh, yes." He flopped to his knees with a splat. "My King, I am at your disposal." He held a rather distinguished pose, hand on heart, proud of his friend before grinning bashfully. "If you like."

"Arise… "

Davos stared. _Jon couldn't knight this man, not yet._

"Maester Tarly."

Sam stood up, a little embarrassed. "Not fully, but I'm a quick learner- when it comes to memorizing stuff. But I shall happily take that title, and any duties you give me." Sam turned and noticed his party still had their head stooped low in respect. "Oh yes, introductions. This is my brother Dickon, and this is my far-"

"-Lord Randyll Tarly, your grace. I represent House Tarly." The man boomed, the man clearly wanted a seal of approval and to prove he was nothing like his eldest son. "I was told you possess great…abilities, along with your new discovered…birth right."

Davos detected doubt, and this man hadn't seen what he had seen, would deem Jon's feats nothing but myths. The Advisor chimed loudly-"Aye, his birthright, finally a man smart enough to know the truth-" Jon raised a hand to calm him.

"My birthright was withheld from me since I was a babe." Jon didn't feel right, they still weren't sure. To everybody so far he was a legitimized bastard, which had been proclaimed King by smaller folk, and had married his half-sister. "But the feats I have achieved in such a short space of time occurred before I knew what my 'right' was, now it all makes sense. It was my Destiny." The air was thick with admiration _\- it was just about knowing which party was generating it._ "I'm not going to ask you to bend a knee, or pledge fealty. I just want you to lend me any able bodied men."

"To take King's Landing, certainly."

Jon gave a lopsided smile. "No, to defend the realms of men."


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa tried not to let this influx of strangers bother her. She spied from her nest some peculiarly dressed men discussing alliances. Tarlys had big ruffs and wide pantaloons, they looked quite out of place among _the_ _wolves_. She studied her husband- _and possibly a dragon_. She let her head fall against the carved wood balcony, as she sat on the flagstone to keep out of sight. It was on the verge of reaching the time in the discussion when they talk marriage and women- and only then was it likely for Jon to send for her, to introduce her to the men. Until then she would have to hide away, and not get mixed up in politics. _Oh she must conserve her energy for baby making._ Her husband's voice rang out around the hall, she heard its depth- full of honesty, and an unfamiliar rattle.

"We're curious about your current religion?"

Sansa's ears perked up.

"I suppose you are." Her husband shared a knowing look with his advisor. "Despite what you might have heard, I don't have a set religion, but I tend to lean towards the old gods more than… the new."

Davos grimaced, he should have left out the later.

The youngest Tarly spoke up. "We were told you were with Rhollor, and you have a red witch at your counsel?" His father looked disgruntled he had openly asked.

Jon shifted, trying to correct his posture. "You were told wrong, the red priestess was removed from my court. We aren't supporters of the lord of light."

Randyll lip twitched in angst. "What about the faith of the seven?"

"My wife has the faith of the seven at her back." Jon worded it like she had been blessed by them.

"Is that right." The Tarly man said, meaning simply 'I see.'

Sansa was staring hard enough for her eyes to go dry, she was clutching at the carvings on her balcony, trying to pop her head through the gap.

The larger gent of the party looked delighted. "Really, so soon? I heard whispers that you might be allied with someone. I didn't know it had happened so soon, when was the wedding?"

Jon noticed the other Tarlys didn't seem interested, clearly they had had a match in mind, and this had scuppered their plans. "Last night." He uttered. "It was a quick affair."

"And I bloody missed it!" Sam crowed, his father slapped his arm, he wasn't amused by Sam's manner. "Ah, well, congratulations- we were very keen on a match with one of our own, but I think if you had your own pick then, fair enough…" Sam knew Jon would know he meant well. "So, who is our Queen?"

She was pretty sure there was a drum rolling somewhere, as Jon took his sweet time deliberating. "Lady Sansa of House Stark." It felt like someone had walked on her grave, she felt fingers caressing down her spine, which turned into a sharp prod when one of the party snorted.

"Your sister?" Dickon smirked. "How Targaryen...and Lannister, considering what we've heard."

The room plunged into ice, whereas in Jon's eyes- only fire resided, somewhere in the castle Ghost was growling. "Clearly you have been misinformed, or perhaps you haven't deciphered the ravens yet- but Sansa is my cousin." Davos shifted uncomfortably beside him. "Now she is my wife. If I am a Targaryen as people think- you would be wise not to humour yourself with such dangerous information."

Sansa felt like she was smirking on his behalf. He had chosen not to use the term 'Mock me'.

The elder Randyll dipped his head. "Forgive my son, he has been riding for too long." Sam had the opportunity to bump his brother. There was a majority in the room that liked this altercation.

"Perhaps after you've dined and rested overnight, you will have cleared your head." Davos gathered from Jon's tone, he had made the decision he would take them into his army if he had to. "Podrick will escort you to your chambers." Podrick manoeuvred into position, about to do the King's bidding, when Sam meekly asked-

"Will we be seeing Sansa anytime soon?- I've always wanted to meet the rest of your-" The previous argument had gone over his head. He smiled dimly. "-Family."

She believed she was up to the challenge of socializing with those indifferent to her, Sam looked a decent sort of man, his father spooked her though. Sansa shuffled back from the balcony in preparation to hurry back to her chamber in case she was sent for.

The king shot Davos a testy look. "Soon. She's running errands at the moment. We'll see if I can coax her to dine with us later. Podrick, their chambers."

Sansa had heard enough, and crept out of the hall. _What an odd summary of her character._

Davos wished his grace hadn't worded it like that, it made her sound like a reluctant Queen. He could see the crafty look among the Tarly party- they reeked of descent and schemes. They were finally left alone, and Davos opened up. "You are King, you're grace, never say; 'I'll see if I can get my own wife down to dine with you'."

Jon tutted. "Never say never to me, Davos." Jon glanced from where the Tarlys had left. "But thank you for waiting for them to leave before laying into me."

Respect was thrown around frivolously in court, but this situation certainly summed up the word. His majesty grinned, his advisor had the courtesy not to equal such a smile, and bowed his head. "Your grace. I think you would have handled my outburst admirably if I had, you're good at putting the boot in."

Jon shook his head, face full of doubt and sadness. "It doesn't work all the time- I got killed remember?"

"For the great or good, it honourably broke you free from the brotherhood. And besides; people will flock behind a man who can't be killed."His own words scared him, _no one should have that kind of power._

"Sure, flock behind a man that caused a mutiny." There was that deathly rattle, and the intense stare. "I just wanted honour, maybe a tiny bit of glory. Enough to make people forget I was a bastard." Davos knew Jon had more to say so he held back. "Being a brother gave me a speck of that. But it doesn't beat that first dream."

His advisor needed to know everything about his King's other aspirations. "What is that?- To unite the colonies of men?"

The darkness seemed to disperse. "The one where I'm lord of Winterfell, married and have children that aren't bastards." It was steeped in sentiment and longing, Davos felt bad for squashing it.

"-Winterfell, belongs to Rickon or Bran. You will have something better."

He saw Jon calculating, perhaps what else he could seize instead. "But before we found Rickon, we had Sansa..." His leather glove brushed past his hilt. Something was eating away at his grace."Still no word on Arya, or Bran..." His hand fully gripped longclaw, and Davos felt the urge to step back. "I will avenge them."

"Yes, but first, we must seize all able bodied men for our cause, we need to prepare for the army of the dead." The older gent had a problem with the term 'white walkers', the term seemed too respectful and gentile for such harsh violent beings.


	6. Chapter 6

**R &R**

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Sansa tugged at her needle and pulled a thread through her muslin. The green stitch tightened into place, and that was a vine completed, now for the next. She looked at her efforts of a good hour, it was neat and pretty. Her jaw contracted and she ground her teeth. _Useless...you can't win a war with embroidery._ Sansa gently threaded the needle back into the fabric- checking it was secure. _Very nice...But-_ She hurled her hoop across the chamber. "And stay there!" Luckily her handmaiden had been dispatched with an errand, so she hadn't seen this lapse in grace.

She heard clanging and sheering of steel outside her window, and the Queen knew at least one of them might be _him._ She had an unfamiliar tingle in her stomach. She wasn't going to look, she only imagined how the training must have been going. Jon was skilled, from what she had been told, whenever she saw him training in the past he always looked angry, and hot-headed, as if he was actually killing. Even inanimate objects quaked in his presence. _Good, I suppose._ As a child she found his method a little sloppy compared to her brother, Robb, though that could have been down to the taunting. But the method worked, most challengers would go down in the dirt, and Jon would continue to hammer their shields, until they screamed at him. _I yield, I yield!_ She suddenly saw a memory of Ramsay lying cut open from nape to privates in the mud, the guts and grass mingled. Sansa hadn't realised she had been smiling until-

"-You are glowing, your grace."

She steered towards her handmaiden who had returned with linens and hoops. It dawned on her the morbidity of her thoughts, she was awful and vile- _perhaps she should pick up a sword?_ She composed herself. "Thank you...It must have been that delicious breakfast, very large and fulfilling." The girl approached her with the supplies. Realising the enormity of her task she had set herself, Sansa felt herself grimace. "Thank you, just set all the hoops at the corners, I'll do the sigils later." Sansa requested, hoping to be left alone with her thoughts again.

"Yes, your grace." The girl perched on a stool as she did her bidding, she was quick. "Anything else your grace?"

Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and surveyed her room. "Erm, nothing comes to mind." She rubbed her head- _push me off the highest tower_. She blinked. "I shall not be doing much today." She wrapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. "What a day." She sighed, gazing at her husband's nightshirt hanging up.

The handmaiden was staring, as if something was about to burst out of mouth. "Your grace?"

"Hm." Sansa had a strange inkling she was going to say something that would annoy her.

"Would you like some camomile tea for your sickness?"

There was a _pregnant_ pause, filled with distant clanging of swords. _Surely the girl didn't think that_. She had a new image of her own blood and guts- and a screaming baby burning inside her mind. She wasn't sure if she could go through with an explanation of the impossibility of _that_ to this girl. The gossip in court would go from no consummation, a void marriage, to Sansa of House Stark being barren. "No, little dove." She heard herself, and felt sick. "I mean-"

The girl was on the verge of dismissing herself.

"-Tell Podrick to extend my well wishes to our new guests. Oh...and could you send me... Ser Seaworth... tell him it's urgent."

The girl gave her a funny grimace followed by a sloppy curtsey, and the Queen was left alone with her thoughts. It wasn't healthy being by oneself, she needed something, she couldn't drag poor Ghost into the chambers, away from his master so she could brush his coat. _That would be cruel for something so wild_. Perhaps she should have befriended her handmaiden? Next time she'll ask her name. She envied the girl's innocence, the girl was older than her and was probably happy and untouched. Sansa was 17, and she had to act twice her age, and she felt as such. _How did she survive?_ _In such a dangerous court, named a traitor- then kingslayer, then she was wardeness of the north with an abusive husband_. She should save her thoughts for Davos. As she waited, she noted the clanging outside had stopped. _Tavern break possibly?_

She heard a funny sort of rubbing on the door, and realised it was Davos trying to knock with his wrong hand. "Come in!" No sooner had he entered, she asked. "Tell me about the new men."

"Your grace, they seem trustworthy." Davos was being careful, and she wondered why, _she was on his side_!

"And?"

"They've plead their case."

"No they haven't...why are you being vague with me?" She was sure the King's advisor was shrugging."Tarlys have an allegiance to the Tyrells of Highgarden." The corner of her lip twitched as Davos looked at her suspiciously. "Yes, I know things...I'm not _stupid_... all the time."

"News travels fast, so you knew they were Tarlys."

Sansa huffed. "You do realise I live here, servants come and go and they talk to me, once I knew they were here-." The chair creaked as she rose. "I was mystified they would come straight here, not all of them mind you- their bannermen are still with the Tyrells." Before Davos could respond, she continued. "-Though I am fond of Maergery Tyrell, her family have been jumping back and forth between camps, it has made me think, do they really have a true loyalty to anybody else but their own?"

"Are you talking about the Tyrells or the Tarlys?"

Sansa had gotten lost. "Both." She said indignantly. "I think they have the same agenda. Like Lannisters really, but nicer." She crashed back into her chair. "It looks like we have another party who finds our union a little iffy...Who can blame them." _Careful_.

Davos raised a hand. "Now that you have vented, can I ask...who did you have spying on our meeting?" He clasped his hands in front of him."Was it Podrick?"

 _No, she thought Podrick was a Lannister spy_. She had serious trust issues. "I'm tired, very tired, Ser, you have your job." _And I have mine, whatever it may be_. Sansa's voice had gone to its usual volume. "I'm bored, and completely irrelevant, and it's my own fault- for not preparing myself for adulthood. I used to have my head stuck in those fairytales." She pointed at her hope chest at the foot of the bed, her books were in there. "-I lived by them, and now I'm living in a nightmare." She waved her hand into the air. "I'm not a Queen, I'm not a wife, I'm not a wardeness, I'm not an advisor, I'm just a damn name, did I not ride into battle alongside Jon to take back Winterfell?..." She finished by resting her head on her knuckles. "And it was me whom was spying, hardly a spy if I'm using the information for the same side." She heard Davos use her handmaiden's stool, it squeaked as he perched on it.

"Well, I think you'll find you're a lot better after that, has a weight been lifted?- Do you feel better?" Davos sounded patronizing, but she believed he was genuinely asking if she was well. Sansa turned her head from her position on her hand. Davos tipped his head to study her. "You seem like a Queen to me."

"I'm a brat, Ser, don't confuse the two." She didn't feel like laughing today, but Davos was in the mood- he chortled, he wasn't the only one- she could hear someone quietly sniggering in the hall, the door was ajar. With some very good precision, she picked up a cushion from her odd angle, and aimed it right at the door and it closed. SLAM.

Davos was amiable about it. "You've done that before."

"I haven't done that since I was 8, I'm surprised it reached so far." She clutched at her shoulder, she had wretched it. "Never has it reached the door, let alone closed it efficiently."

"You have longer arms than when you were 8, your grace."

"I meant I was always out of condition, I'm not agile like Arya...my younger sister." She added in case he didn't know. And he nodded and gestured as if he did. _But of course._ "Though athletics aren't a woman's pursuits, I was always good at walking, didn't like riding, but I became good at that regardless."

"Then go riding, your grace." He adjusted himself on the stool. "Never really liked it myself, a horse is too high off the ground." Davos could see her clutching her arm, it felt like he should do something, he wasn't sure what. "I didn't have a head for heights, but I got used to it, I had trouble boarding ships and climbing on horses, in the early days." He smiled. "And it's been ages since those early days." His eyes went to the window, he appeared pensive, thinking about something sombre, at least that was what she could read. He then suddenly inclined forward on his stool, and his voice got quiet. "Practice makes perfect, I know this sounds daft, but when your shoulder is better, throw more cushions- throw them as hard as you can 'til it aches." He held a grave expression, in complete contrast to the one that started.

"Then I'll be strong?" _Now that was funny_. "I can see myself doing windmills with a cushion in each hand."

The old gent had laughter in his eyes. "Whatever agrees with you, pet. But make sure no one sees you."

Sansa picked up another cushion, she toyed with is tassels. "It sounds like your training me up for a fight." She with hushed tones, as if it was some sort of secret. The cushion held a lot of weight, she could image the strength she would have if she did it every day for week. "Who's my opponent?"

The door clunked, and Jon rustled in, the rustling was caused through the leather he had decked himself in. He looked from one person to the other. Both Sansa and Davos were sitting close, leant towards one another, and neither of them had addressed him. "What were you doing?" That wasn't an innocent question he had posed. "I thought it was a bit quiet." He closed the door behind him, and Davos leapt from the stool.

"Your grace."

Sansa knew from Jon's expression that he didn't want Davos to excuse himself. She feared for him. "Your grace, our advisor was just-"

Jon straightened his mouth. "Hm...our advisor?"

She didn't like that. "Yes, our." She stood up quickly enough for the cushion to fall. "I am Queen."

"I thought you were a brat?"

The air left the room, and she probably with it. Her face was numb. _Bastard_. _He thought she was a brat- wait-_ "You were spying, outside..." It was supposed to be an exclamation but it came out low, and angry.

"A lot better than you." He tried to counter that rage, but he wasn't on the attack. Sansa could trace mirth in his features, it made her angrier. "I couldn't hear the last part, you were talking in whispers, I got a little worried..." Jon's eyes roved to his _trusted advisor._ "Should I be worried?"

Sansa snorted- but a delicate one at that. "Tactics, for winning a war, if you must know." _Perhaps he'll laugh_. She was starting to believe Davos had been referring to Jon, when it came to strength training against something. _Self- defence maybe?_ "Beating our enemies."

"The white walkers?- Now you believe."

Sansa hadn't thought about those creatures she had never seen, to her they were as real as the heroes in her books. And there were no heroes. "When the time comes." She sat back down, hearing her own words ringing in her head. _But she wouldn't stand a chance, she couldn't even win an argument. "_ If it's going to get as bad as you claim, we would have to armour up every woman and child as well as the men." Sansa tensed up when Jon made an approach, he'd have to forgo any affection- Sansa was never in the mood, nor ready for such advances. Luckily Jon settled on the hope chest at the foot of the bed.

She waited on baited breath for him to say something to bring her down a peg or two, Davos didn't help, he was watching as if he knew everything she had said was wrong. "So you don't trust the Tarlys..." Her king sighed.

Jon was out of her main line of sight, and she refused to turn to the King fully. "One of them is friendly enough, but I still don't know them. I'm sure the Tyrells do. I just don't want you putting faith in other people's men. Robb did that with the Boltons, and we all know what happened-"

"-Yes, I know, and I heard what you said." He didn't sound pleased, _perhaps he knew everything and more- but regardless he most likely didn't want his wife to overrule him._ She prepared for some kind of ridicule, he slid over on the chest so he was only a foot away from her chair. "But it isn't your call." She felt the heat from his hand through the glove, as he set it on her forearm. "They'll be on my side when the dead break through the wall."

 _Saying things like that made him sound very Targaryen_. She turned. _Seven Hells, his face was close._ "If you don't mind, I'll eat up here tonight...your grace." She was playing with fire, and the only way to survive is to be cold. She managed to excuse her arm from his hand by pretending she was writing at her desk. She recalled Cersei used to write to pretend she was busy, when she didn't fancy talking.

"Don't be like that." She could hear old Jon in that brief moment, but the scratching of her quill must have got to him. The air became charged."Fine, stay up here!" He rumbled and her chair vibrated as he stood, she blinked as she felt a surge of air- she thought she was about to be struck, but it was merely the motion of him heading to the door. "Davos, come!" That was usually the style and address he reserved for 'Ghost.' Davos relented and shuffled through the door, just before it was closed, she heard him quickly add with a seethe."If you want to eat, you have to come down for it- no food will enter this room."


	7. Chapter 7

**Let me know what you think.**

* * *

It was like the onset of nerves before a battle. The jitters, where the silence consumes them. Ser Seaworth had felt it at blackwater bay. Except this wasn't a battle. Jon seemed to think it was, he had had the 'kill' face on all day. Davos felt sick studying it, he was waiting desperately for his King's face to slacken before he spoke to him. Ghost was staying well away from his master, but growling at every person that crossed him. The mood was contagious. The only opportunity he had to comment on banishing food from the bedchamber, came when he witnessed Podrick getting ambushed by the King, he'd been carrying something on a tray, the squire was either protecting it, or disguising it with a cloth.

"Where you going with that?"

Podrick stalled, visibly shaken by the encounter. "Erm...Tarlys." Jon did a quick sniff, and the squire retracted the tray- thinking he was going to blow the cloth back. "It is for the Tarlys." He stated again, cagily.

"I smell lemon cake."

Davos just stared helplessly at the exchange. _Fucking run boy, run._

"Tarlys like lemon cake." The squire tried again.

"Should I come with you and ask them?" Jon was disgustingly clinical. There was a pause, one that was so long- an army could have marched by, before Podrick broke free from the tension and ran for his life, still expertly holding the tray. "Come back here!" Jon was relentless when it came to following orders, especially his own.

The advisor didn't pursue this line of enquiry, but he'd certainly talk about it at the tavern. But for now he'd stand by as the King stormed about the place, staring daggers at everyone who had a whiff of food about them. He managed to manipulate a squire with kindness, into practicing with him. _Podrick should have known better._ He rang his head like a bell.

"Davos." A very chirpy chap approached him

"Samwell." He could hardly be anxious around such a happy face. "Your father's a bit intense, isn't he?" He had wanted to say that for awhile now.

"Oo yes, he'd have to be with the crap he puts up with, me being one of them."

"Ah no, you slew a walker, doesn't he know that?" Davos walked towards the gate, away from Jon. In case the subject changed.

"No one believes it, and it was a fluke." Sam grimaced at his own honesty. "Nevermind eh?- I know I did, which means I could do it again."

Davos smiled, he had heard of things similar occurring. "So would you say you are going to take a position as maester here?"

"I'm no maester, I haven't had the training." He shuffled along, hoping Davos would slow down. "Though you'll be needing someone experienced in birthing a child..." Davos frowned at the boy. "-Oh, I haven't given birth, but Gilly has, ehe."

Davos could see what Sam was thinking, it was laughable at this time. If only he knew. Sam _was Jon's friend, it was best if he did know._ The advisor finally came to a stop, a sigh of resignation escaped him. "I think you'll find this funny, but...Jon and Sansa haven't..." Hopefully Samwell could fill in the gaps.

Sam's mouth twitched. "Yer what?- Really, Jon...I know he was a sworn brother, but that hasn't stopped him before"

"-I know."

"-Aye, but...yeah I suppose he wouldn't, I mean-" He checked to see if his friend was out of earshot. "-She was his sister for..." He said it as a harsh self-conscious whisper. "How old is she?"

"17, I think...from what I gather... she isn't a maiden." He hated saying these things, he felt like a gossiping woman. Davos waved his hand all embarrassed. "So she knows stuff...it might help."

"That's Ramsays doing."

The older gent was surprised he knew. "Aye."

"-And it won't help though, women become uptight and insecure about it all, they get snappy." Sam winced, he had been a victim of an angry woman. "And seeing as they both don't see each other as anything but siblings."

"They might not be though, Jon doesn't see it that way." Davos wasn't sure Sam was privy to that information. "Well I believe through my own assumptions." He scratched his greying beard. " The witch... before we dismissed her..." He began, not wanting to admit the sorcery at work. "She saw one of her visions in a fire, she saw Jon astride a dragon." It was supposed to be a sobering thought, which would have had many men in awe- considering the witch had correctly predicted they would get to Winterfell. But the young stocky chap in front of him laughed.

"My imagination is just as creative." It beggars belief. "You got the whole Targaryen rumour from a witch's dream of him riding a dragon?" Davos remained deadpan, and finally Samwell ceased all criticism. "By 'eck, you said you weren't following Rhollor-"

"-Sssh... we're not." He was talking a bit loud, the advisor squeezed the man's meaty shoulder. "I would appreciate you kept the vision and the witch to yourself, only his immediate followers know of this...and Sansa, even she is having trouble with it all."

Sam slowly stared up at the tower, blinking at the gradual snowfall."He used to be very vague about Sansa, he would mostly go on about Robb and Arya. " Davos too peered up to see if he could see Sansa, but visibility was low.

The snow stacked up on their shoulders, and they shivered simultaneously. Davos huffed. "It would have been awkward if it had been Jon and Arya, eck!"

The portly man laughed, his face scrunched up. "I can imagine. It'd be like marrying a body part, like a hand."

"I bet the consummation's not so bad." Davos then chortled, and after a slight delay, the older gent did a crude gesture with his hand, and Samwell finally got it and guffawed. "Oh what will you think of me?!"

"Dirty devil." Sam shook his head, this was a serious matter. "Oh gods." He tried to get his breath back, he suddenly hiccupped as someone rapidly descended on them, at a march. "My king."

Davos cleared his throat and he was sombre once more. "Your grace."

"Are you laughing at me, or the squire?" Jon was disapproving, he had been clouting a squire's shield, who was humming to syke himself. "Do you want to take his place?"

 _Holy hell._ The kill face was as ferocious as ever, _how could Sansa invoke that face on him, and on purpose? Surely she knew that face would be back_. Davos raised his hands in defence. "My King, I wasn't discussing you, I didn't mean to interrupt your practice. But I fear your squire won't learn to fight with a shield alone."

Jon pointed a sword at him, _at least it wasn't longclaw_. Sam steered clear of the swing range, worried he might be next. "Share your joke with me- And I'll tell you how funny it is."

Sam was grimacing, on the verge of fleeing. He couldn't speak for him, not without coming up with a new joke. The older gent clenched his teeth, the King had a lot of menace. He had told many jokes in his lifetime, none came to mind when you had a blade in the face. _Oh shoot he'll have to tell him, or_ -. "I can't remember, it was so spur of the moment, we laughed at the quickness of it." Davos was cool as a cucumber.

Jon lowered the blade briefly, but then promptly moved on to Sam. "Do you remember?"

Sam shook his head frivolously, scared witless. "No, not fully, something about wanking..." Sam squinted, and did an odd sort of smile; very insecure. That's when he realised how funny it was, all over again, and started laughing. Jon was dumbfounded, his sword dropped to his side.

"I think that was the punchline." Davos tried, and he was relieved to see his King's face split with a smile.

"Bloody wanking?"

The old gent saw another opportunity. "Then you're doing it wrong."

Jon was amiable. "Damn you are quick."

* * *

Sansa had called for a copper bath, she had it installed in a room with a separate lock to her chambers. Her handmaiden heated some water to fill it. "I shall smuggle you a cob of bread if I can, your grace."

"Thank you." And she meant it, she wasn't going to get all indignant about it. That made things a lot worse, she needed to practice the art of submission again, no matter how scared and angry she got, she needed to have the air of politeness and grace. She was a Queen afterall. Sansa was already a damaged specimen, she shouldn't have to add bratty and moody to her character traits. _She wasn't Cersei._

Sansa stood her mirror next to the bath, the heat from the water steamed it up. She made herself as naked as the day she was born, and stepped into water- _so very hot_. Water cooled quickly in the north, so she didn't waste any time. She sat, and set her feet against the rim. Her handmaiden came back into the room with another pail of water, to be used for her hair. Sansa jarred a bit, since the maid used the bucket to nudge the door open. Bang. For a second she thought Jon had put his boot to it. "Lock the door, Agnes." The girl obliged, and she heard the bolt slide across. Sansa lay into the bath, curling up into a foetal position, so the nape of her neck got a good soaking, she sat up normally again, and sloshed some of the water out. "Whoops."

"It's alright...there's plenty left." Her maid reassured, she threaded her fingers through the Queen's hair, as if playing with it. The young Queen found this odd, and then "-Your hair is darker than usual."

"Hm." Sansa reached for a strand and pulled it over her shoulder. _It just looked damp, that's all_. "Maybe some of that dyes still in it, I had to disguise my natural colour to keep my identity safe." She explained, flicking it back over her shoulder. She knew that wasn't possible, since it had been weeks since she had that dye washed out.

"I see." Agnes pushed her slightly forward "Let's see if I can restore it." Sansa then heard the clank of a bucket, the water was tipped gently over her head. She wiped it from her face with a splutter. "Pardon, your grace." Agnes began to lather oil into her hair, combing it back and away from her face. "You have lovely hair."

Sansa remained perfectly still, when people got too friendly and nice, she believed they were up to no good. She remained quiet, as the fingers massaged the oil into her scalp.

"Does her grace wish me to put oil in the bath?" It was almost said absently, as if the maid was completely immersed in the foam in Sansa's hair.

"If you please."

"But would it _please_ you?" The maid's hand came to rest on her shoulder, the oil starting to drip over it and down her chest.

Sansa turned a little to see the maid in the corner of her eye. "It would." Said quickly, not emphasising on it like Agnes had.

The oily hand suddenly rolled off her shoulder, and lowered down into the water, in front of Sansa's breast. _That was a little close._ The hand swished in the water, dispersing the oil, when the hand retreated, it skimmed Sansa's chest, she couldn't make a sound- without completely breaking her composure.

"There." The maid drawled. "Nice, isn't it?" There were so many expectant pauses, it was hard to brush off the strangeness of it all. "Would the queen like anything else?" So many connotations, but a blatantly obvious one was a hand stroking down her back. It tickled until it reached half way point, and she felt the tension lift. _It felt good._ Her eyes became hooded, and her head lolled back. She wasn't sure if was due to relaxation, or her head being gently pulled back. She was blanketed with warmness and something she had never felt before. There was so much steam, she couldn't make out her toes, not that anything else mattered- except maybe the tongue and lips caressing her neck. _This isn't right._ Sansa eyes opened, she sat bolt right up- and the bath nearly emptied.

She stood up, and turned- very unashamed. "What do you think you are doing?!" She said shrewdly. _Though could you blame her?_

The woman hadn't budged, but her eyes were slightly wider than the norm. "You can't be as forward and as intimate as that, do you understand me?!"

Agnes rose as smoothly as the steam that rose from the tub. Her eyes penetrated through the mist, not intimidated by her Queen in the slightest, she stepped forward through the mist with fluidity but reckless, like jumping through fire. Sansa gasped at the speed, but horrified to find a new woman standing there. Except, she knew this woman, but only from brief exchanges between the men, and she had glimpsed this woman on her journey to castle black, she had followed them to Winterfell. "Don't be afraid... Sansa Stark, I am an ally to you." Her voice was exotic, though any foreign accent was exotic to her ears.

"You're the red witch, I saw you...you were banished!" Sansa was still standing starkers, confronting this woman. "How dare you use your magic on me! How dare you sneak into my...husband's castle!"

"Your husband's castle, your grace?... I am saddened that you have made such a distinction between home and your husband's castle. You are Queen to the lord's champion, it is all yours as well, you should share in the lord of light's favour..."

Sansa snatched up her robe and covered her still wet form. Wrestling with the cord, desperately trying conceal her special areas. "My husband never agreed to be tied to the lord of light, and our union was blessed by the old gods and the new, not some fire demon!" She finally tied the cord, while this red woman looked unfazed by every slight she had made. "And the King owns this castle, not your lord of light- and you are trespassing. How do you expect to gain favour with your trickery?!"

"I wanted to reach you, your grace, I didn't mean to frighten or offend you." She was disgustingly soothing. _How dare she soothe after violating me_. "I must be close at hand to serve you, I am a messenger of the lord-" Melisandre could see Sansa giving her an annoyed stare at the mention of her lord. "-the lord that offends you, but please I only wish to help you."

"What about my husband?" The queen crossed her arms defensively. "Shouldn't you be chasing your champion, or do you wish to get to him through me?!"

"You are wise to think this way. I will do anything to protect my lord's ...investments." Melisandre raised her hand to Sansa's face, she jarred. "But right now, I need to help you."

Sansa narrowed her eyes, hoping her anger would drive this woman away. "So your way of helping is trickery, and...molesting?!"

The priestess simply smiled darkly. "That was seduction."

"But you're a woman." Sansa exclaimed, watching the witch cock a brow at her. "And I'm a woman." The lady was unfaltering in her manner. "That can't work."

"It's funny how ignorant you are, even when you are no longer an innocent."

 _Ouch, that hurt._ Sansa shook her head. "Don't say that, it's not my fault." Tears prickled her eyes, was all her disgraces known to all.

Melisandre cupped the Queen's face, there was so much heat coming from the lady's hands- Sansa believed she was trying to scold her. "I know my Queen, I must tell you now, seduction isn't just a talent of a woman to a man, it can be of woman to a woman, or even a talent of a man to a man." Melisandre's face didn't budge to anything, but...inviting. It was like she was asking for a kiss. _But I don't love this woman._ "I'm sure you know it can be a talent of a man to a woman."

"Men don't seduce." Sansa spoke through a pair of hot hands. "They court, they woo."

"They always give men the less harsher words, to disguise their purpose. They must know that women can be subtler and deadlier." The witch was nearly taking up all her air. "Jon is not capable of courtship, wooing, or seduction."

Sansa felt a pang of anger in her stomach, it rose up and gave her a metallic taste in her mouth. "That's not his fault." She found herself saying, it was quiet and full of devotion. "He used to be shy, and now he isn't...he expects everything to just happen without any build up because he beat death."

Melisandre then pulled her into a motherly hug."You poor child, and know I'm here to help, I was sent back for a reason, to guide you and your King."

"Against the white walkers?" Sansa mumbled into the witch's gown, completely confused by her words and her actions. _This woman either wanted to seduce her, or..._ "Tell me why you came back?" The hug was still in session, it was warm- but no good could come from it- witches were tricky. _She could be stealing your soul._ She pushed against the red dress which had engulfed her. "Enough."

The witch explained."Imagine the power you could have, an innocent looking flower like you seducing any man; the celibate, or the dangerous. You would have complete control."

Sansa heard a lot of bad words, in a sentence she didn't want to believe were possible. _It sounds like she wants you to seduce the enemy, surely not the white walker_ s?! "I don't want to be a seductress!" Sansa exclaimed, and the red woman tried to soothe her, because her voice was getting loud and panic stricken. "I just want to be myself, I want to be happy and safe, no tricks."

"Sssh..." Her face got close to hers, such loving eyes she had, but all false. "That's all I needed to know, tell me everything- I can advise you." A finger dragged over her trembling lip. _She still felt like she was being seduced._

"We- we." Sansa felt she had succumbed to whatever magic this woman had cast. "We already have an advisor!" She snapped quickly. If it hadn't had come out quickly, it wouldn't have come out at all.

"Yes, Davos." Melisandre said with distaste, withdrawing from her subject. "A gentle, but stubborn man." She was dismissive, but suddenly changed her tune, moving in for the kill again."But surely you must know... the lord of light has shined on him, and he casts a very large shadow, he serves your King well when it comes to war and strategy, that makes him a servant to the lord of light whether he knows it or not."

 _Very clever._ She tried not to be so gullible, if this had been said to her years earlier she would have gobbled it up. "And what's my purpose for _the lord of light_?" Sansa hadn't forgotten she had visited her, and her alone.

"In time, an heir...maybe." Meliandre appeared to be testing the water. Metaphorically. "An heir for the champion, another second generation champion." The fireplace captivated the witch's attention, so it gave Sansa time to gather herself.

"That was my purpose anyway, my only purpose." She was uncomfortable with such talk, it reminded her of her issues, and phobias. Now she was sad again, instead of angry and afraid. "Seems unlikely as ever." A croak had crept into her voice as if stifling a cry.

The witch turned, and she was forced to put her guard up again. "Why?- You aren't Barren." She said boldly. "And you are attracted to _handsome_ men, with titles..."

Sansa thought those weren't the only attributes you needed to have an heir. _With titles._ "I'm not as shallow as you think I am."

"No, but it does help to be selective. But when given the choice between 5 individuals, who do you pick?"

"5?" Sansa was never given a pick. W _as the witch misinformed? It was never her choice._ "Women have to do what there told in a dangerous world, I can't say no, imagine the repercussions. Where have I been given 5 choices?"

"Joffrey, Tyrion, Ramsay, Jon, and the unknown; the stranger." Melisandra gestured as if she was presenting a banquet.

Sansa was fuming. "How dare you?! They weren't choices. Joffrey was a royal command."

"Which you accepted, many opportunities came to abort."

Sansa put up her second finger. "Number two; Tyrion, I was a forced to marry, I was surrounded by the enemy, they dragged me down that aisle."

"Dragged?"

"My wedding to Ramsay was arranged, and he raped me!"

"A _little_ man arranged a wedding and told you to go along with it, you could have cast this _little_ man aside and gone straight back to the vale."

Sansa was irked. "Jon?- What of Jon?"

"You sought him out, once you knew where he was, you made a bee-line for him."

"There was nowhere else to go, he was the last family I had." She was nearly in tears.

"You say _was_ , he still is your family, a cousin in blood, and husband by marriage, and you still had two remaining brothers, you knew they had survived that betrayal. Jon's not just family."

"Our marriage was arranged by members of the north."

"They didn't drag you down the aisle, they wouldn't have killed you if you had refused." Melisandre tucked a strand of hair behind the Queen's ear, then stroked under her chin- _like she was some dog._

Sansa mumbled something incoherent; she didn't think the witch could read minds, so she kept it locked away. Such words would cause the world to fall apart. "You don't know the circumstances."

The witch wasn't the type to laugh in one's face, she smiled- a toothless self assured smile. "If I know all about you, and I know about Jon, then...what else do you think I know, I know everything, child."

"So you know the future?" She waited for Melisandre to nod, before dealing a blow. "Did you foresee Stannis's death after grooming him as the lord of light's champion?" And then the red woman's self-assured face was gone. Sansa suddenly felt like a player of a game she didn't understand. "What hope does Jon have, with an adviser like you?" She didn't give it a tone of mockery, in case everything backfired. So in the end she posed a question.

The witch licked her teeth under her lips. "I misread flames in which I saw Stannis Bartheon, all what I put on Stannis should have gone to Jon. The lord of light works in mysterious ways, I believe my lord showed me Stannis because he would take me to Jon, Stannis was a messenger. The potential is still there, and it's in Jon."

"Everybody you saw potential in has died." Sansa drew closer to the fire, having been away from it too long.

Melisandre saw it as an opportunity. "Yes, and Jon has already died, and he came back." She ran her hand down the queen's spine, the girl was tall, she had quite a journey. "The lord of light brought him back, and the lord cleared the path to bring you to castle black." She snuck her chin onto Sansa's shoulder, bringing her mouth to the young woman's ear. "Look into the fire, my Queen."

Sansa was already looking into the flames and all she saw was light, she could feel its heat on her eyes. She blinked. "I see fire."

"Look into its centre."

Sansa saw nothing, _was she supposed to see Jon riding a dragon?_ The core was so bright, it was white as _snow_ , but it burned –"I see _fire_ , lots of _fire_."

She heard the witch sigh and walk off somewhere, probably to the window. _Maybe she was going to throw herself through it._ The Queen continued to stare into the fire, that's when she heard a scream. Sansa lurched back and turned expecting to see a broken window and shreds of red. The priestess was still there, she twisted around to look at her, surprised. "What?- Did you see something?"

Sansa clearly knew the witch hadn't heard it, and she didn't want to give her the satisfaction. _You can't say, she was right._ But she didn't see anything, but she heard a sound in the flames. _So the red witch was wrong, ha! There was no image in the flames, only sound._


	8. Chapter 8

"I can dress myself, thank you very much." Jon's voice was heard from the other room.

Sansa listened to Podrick scurrying out of the bedchamber, she could just see her King through the gap in door, she returned her attention to the fire. It had consumed her interest, ever since she had heard the scream. She didn't let on to the red woman the reason she was hovering so close to the fire, she said she was merely cold.

"Are you sulking in there?" Jon called, _as if that would coax her into dining with him._ Sansa shot a glare through the gap, he wasn't in it. He was out of sight, _probably brooding._ Hearing the rustle of fabric, took all the anger out of her, it was replaced with that fear. _Just look at the fire._ It was spitting, no screams were emitting from it, but she held out hope. _The second time around she will be able to identify the screams_.

CREAK

She looked across the room and wished she hadn't, she saw Jon standing shirtless, unabashed, in the doorway. _Consume yourself with the fire._ "What do you want?" _Don't ask that._

"Looks like you made a start to getting ready, what happened?" He mused, strutting into the room. He nudged the bath with his boot. "You made a bit of a mess." He stood over her, she used the mirror to view him, it was much easier, except for the fact he was still shirtless in the reflection. There were faint scars across his abdomen, nothing that took away from the whole physique, but enough for her to want to trace them... _Just look at the fire._ Jon had some bumps up and down his torso, some were probably bone, but there were some uniform bumps lower down- like he was carrying pups. She stared hard as if waiting for the bumps to move, _or kick_.

"Did your handmaiden abandon yer?" He touched her hair; it was still sodden, and sticky. She remained as silent as the grave. "Not talking, is not the way to go."

"I dismissed her, she's probably somewhere." Sansa finally spoke, and at the same time became aware she was wearing her chamber robe. It was gaping at the front, hopefully _the monstrosity_ that was her hair- distracted him from that part of her anatomy. She adjusted it and stood. "Just leave, I can take care of this."

"Clearly not, that's been sitting in your hair for hours. Did you sit here waiting for an absent maid to wash it out?" He started to pull at it, every hair was attached to another and all tugged on her scalp.

"Stop it. I got distracted, I had a strange afternoon." She shuffled back from him and knelt to test the water in the tub, it had remnants of oil already in, but it was a lot less than what was on her head. She then bent over the rim and dipped her head into the bath, using her hand to swish out what she could. "I had a visit from an old friend of yours." Since he was still there watching her bending over into a bath, she might as well talk to him. He ended up squatting over her.

"The water is drowning you out." He, without warning clasped her hands to halt her ministrations. "Say it again."

"I had a visit from the woman in red." She didn't milk it further, since he was too close, she thought he would move off of her once he got a reply. But he still hung over her like a shadow, lean stomach on her back, his arms either side of her head, with a fist full of her hair. "I've got to get this out, release my hair."

"The red priestess?" He ignored her request, and began to manipulate her hair himself, cupping water and pouring it onto the back of her head. "She shouldn't be here, how she get in?"

"Sorcery." She mumbled. "No one should have that kind of power."He was almost sitting on her back, she couldn't even try to move away, not without flooring him.

"She may have power, but she can't influence me." He was good at rinsing; she supposed it was because he had an unruly mass of curls he had to wash repeatedly himself. _His hair must get full of blood._ It felt like he was approaching the end of the wash, since he was wringing her mane. Sansa tried to take control, by fingering through the ends of her hair and reversing through his legs. "Hang on, sweetheart." He was gripping it tightly like reins on a horse. And he steered her back between his legs. _How undignified._

"I can do the rest." She protested, and he put wet fingers into her ear. "Uck, not the ears." He was removing the oil from them, and taking his sweet time too. The wringing started again. "Done?"

"Yep, oof." Then he dismounted her, Sansa knew she was free, except he still had a handful of her hair. She slowly stood up, but it felt like he was winching her with the mane. "There." He reached either side of her head and split the mass into two pieces and brought them over her shoulder. "Kissed by fire." He had trouble releasing the last strand, as the opportunity would go once it fell through his fingers.

She didn't know what he meant, the word _fire_ had rung in her ears most of the day. For the past two nights she had dreamt her Jon was dancing in a pyre, and with the possibility of Jon being a dragon, it made sense. Sansa dreamt of that, and howling wolves. Ghost wasn't much of a howler, though she knew there were wolves in the neighbouring forests, but her instinct told her she was dreaming of lady. The queen was pining for her long lost direwolf.

The fireplace roared in front of her, and there was another heat source behind her- playing with her hair. _Confound the gods, for creating such a puzzle_. Sansa withdrew from the space he had held her in, the other chamber beckoned her, _and that room wasn't on fire._ She noted there was a dress on the bed, one she was expected to wear."I'm still not-"

"-What did she want?" Jon was dithering behind her, she heard something thud on the other side of the room, and with a quick inspection she found he had removed his boots and kicked them at a chest of drawers.

"What she wanted last time." Sansa merely toyed with the sleeves of the dress on the bed, she always got hypersensitive when people were busying themselves changing their clothes or undressing in her presence. _I'll never get used to it._

"She said she wants to serve me, well she can't. Her way of serving me is..." Jon rumbled, and she heard everything, even the cuss at the end. She thought he was going to say sacrifice, but it was a crude term he used instead- _nothing a good woman should hear_. Sansa saw his trousers land on the chair by the bed. "She'll be lucky." He rumbled. "She didn't stand a chance when I was in the watch, she's not going to stand a chance now I'm married." He slid into her peripheral vision, rummaging through a wardrobe. She secreted the dress back into the wardrobe while his attention was diverted, and pulled out her nighty.

"I doubt marriage teaches a man discipline." Sansa was saying it to herself, but she voiced it very openly. She bit her lip when she heard him close a drawer heavy handily.

"You'd be surprised."

Sansa couldn't bite her tongue, probably since she was facing the other way it gave her an air of confidence. "Men do what they like, it's the order of the world, why do you think the world is full of bastards?" _Careful._

"That's not the type of husband I'm going to be." His voice was too distant for him to be facing in her direction. _Maybe, he was scared of her too?_

"But you'll be my husband, grudgingly-"

"Ey, are you starting again?"

Now she knew he was facing her, it sounded different. But luckily she still couldn't see his face."If she doesn't stand a chance now that _you're married-"_ She imitated his voice. "Are you saying she is still in with a chance otherwise? she's an attractive woman- you so would have had her. As if parading our marriage around in front of me was going to make me feel any better, that you are going to restrain yourself for the sake of me, then just forget it." _Was it supposed to be bittersweet?_ The air was charged again, and she knew he would be closer the next time he spoke, he wouldn't let her get away with that. Sansa already felt lousy she had gone back on her promise to herself she was going to be submissive. Now she had to contend with the shadow of a dead man being cast over her.

"Why would I need her? When I've got you." _Oh lord, this would be a very strange sort of punishment._ His arms were slow, they wrapped around her tight, across her arms, locking them to her chest, where she had balled them in defence. It was probably too late to protect the cord of the robe, but she could protect the neckline. They were fused together. There were only two thin sheets of fabric between her buttocks and _the sword,_ and she didn't have a clue what to do. Her soaked hair was being pressed into the back of her robe, it was bleeding through to the skin, and she was certain he had rivets of water running down his chest. "I'd have to be mad to go elsewhere." She heard him say.

 _That is touching, but right now- she wanted to be elsewhere_. He didn't know of course, she couldn't offend him this time. With her hands still clenched, she froze, she refused to whimper. _If you reject him so many times- something horrible could happen._ The horrible was unimaginable; literally, she didn't see rape, or death, but banishment into the unknown, annulled marriage, followed by another marriage more frightful, or spinsterhood. _They'll wonder why you have been rejected 3 times, they could come to the conclusion you are barren._ _What if she was?_ Sansa was lucky not to have been impregnated by Ramsay, and when her flower did bloom, she bled heavily all week. That earned her a beating from Ramsay.

Black curls filled her side vision, and she felt them against her cheek, they were soft, but the beard a little coarse, he was pecking at the side of her neck. It wasn't that bad, the bristle was scratchy, but tickly, and the lips were soft, and they were bigger then they looked. He spread his lips over her skin, and moistened her neck as he drew them closed. These were smooches, not bites, not like Ramsay. Ramsay would bruise or tear her flesh. Early days she would cry during such administrations, cry until she was numb. So his consummations were like flogging a dead horse during her final days as Sansa Bolton.

Jon un-caged her gently, stroking her arms as he withdrew. She was surprised, her arms dropped back to her side and when she unclenched she saw welts on her palms, she masked them as Jon appeared at her side. "They have lemon cakes, downstairs."

The Queen met his expression of mirth, with one of her own. "Damn you."


	9. Chapter 9

Davos and Sam were firm friends already, a rapport that would probably last many years. They couldn't sit to eat until Jon had come in. Davos used the opportunity to size up the rest of the Tarlys. "It's ridiculous how this man puts his back to us." He was cussing into his goblet, gesturing at Randyll. "You think he'd favour the King's advisor, and the King's friend- he doesn't know of the grand position he'll be put in."

"Well, that's me' father for ya. When he holds a grudge, it's for a lifetime. Not even a lifetime of gifts will ever break him down." Sam drank, a little too quickly. "Uh...eck, oops, sorry." Some had dribbled down his chin, he coughed, after he had recovered, he felt compelled to ask- "I wonder if I'll get a knighthood."

Though Davos liked this man, he wouldn't approve of such things being handed out willy-nilly. "Who knows, you need to be able to perform a great feat in his presence, try a good resurrection." He jested, feeling slightly awkward afterward, because it would open a whole can of worms.

"I bet it was some kind of blood magic..." Sam was as unsettled as the older gent. "I wouldn't be inclined to..." He shivered, forcing down another drink.

"It was some kind of magic, but it weren't blood magic. I've seen some devil magic; baby made of black smoke, men with eyes of white and sapphire. It's not an anecdote I care to share."

"No need." The portly chap was always spooked.

The main doors opened, and the King walked in with the Queen, looking as radiant as ever on his arm, but subdued.

"Well, fuck me." Davos uttered, clearly Sam didn't know why he was so surprised. But he hoped it wasn't fear that had brought Sansa down.

"Is that her?" Sam said a little too loud, and Davos shushed him.

"My King and Queen." He felt obligated to be overly courteous, the room needed to know how important this union was, and how their guests courtesy was also required.

"Finally, a good sit down and a meal." Jon announced, gesturing for the other men dithering to seat themselves. "Sorry to have kept you waiting." He released his wife from his leather clad arm.

"Nonsense your grace, we understand the honeymoon period can be...distracting." Randyll was full of mirth, and he approached Sansa, looking from her shoes to her hair. "By eck, I can imagine the wedding ceremony was a quick one, one shouldn't waste time with formalities." Sansa smiled, understanding what he meant, all the men found it funny, she unfortunately didn't. "Your grace." He finally spoke to her officially, and she put her hand in his.

There were lemon cakes, she wanted to devour every single one of them. And so did Jon by the looks of it, he stared at every morsel that approached her mouth. _So the King was fond of lemon cakes, who knew_? But it was unseemly for a woman to have a ferocious appetite, an appetite for food suggested an appetite for sex. _Though shouldn't she let their guests believe they had consummated, and would continue to do so?_ There was also the fear of weight gain, she remembered what Lysa had told her. _Though Lysa was a bitter woman, it could have just been a slight._

She ate another lemon cake, first breaking it into pieces to make it look less colossus and more dainty. She wasn't sure it would be right to lick her thumb and finger afterward. Though it wasn't like she would stick her whole finger into her mouth and slop, like the men did. Sam was being nudged on the elbow every time he refilled his plate. _Poor fellow._

The chit chatter drowned out sounds of chewing, this she can be grateful for. Davos was eating, while talking to her husband, about ships and isles of sapphire. She had already spoken to each of Tarlys, they were charming- _but so were the Tyrells._ Samwell looked as if he was going to say something to her, so she smiled to acknowledge him. _Yes?_

The advisor on the other side of the table rubbed crumbs from his fingers with the table runner. "How did you get her down?" He uttered to his King while everybody was involved in a different conversation.

"I told her I was King, and I expected her here." Jon was looking anywhere but the person in question. "That's all it took." He cleared his throat and drank some wine, the older gent merely nodded- _he couldn't argue with that._

"Was she in good spirits?"

Jon put down the goblet. "Why?" It sounded like the King was trying to incriminate him. "Are you asking if she put up a fight, did I drag her down, did I threaten her? No, as a matter of fact, I didn't." He pulled on his tunic, glancing across at his wife who was engrossed in a conversation. "She let me touch her today." He said it as an afterthought, reaching for more food.

 _Try not to laugh._ The older gent bit into a bread cob. "That's wonderful, your grace." He was deadpan and mumbly. "But, doesn't she do that anyway..." He had his jesting eyes on, he was all eyebrow and no mouth.

"Don't play dumb, Davos." He was gruff even if the conversation was anecdotal. "And if you think I meant holding hands and frolicking, that's a step in the wrong direction." Jon was having quite a lot of wine.

 _You'd think if his king was on the verge of making a wife out of this woman, he would want to be sober._ "If you have ever seen any oil paintings titled frolicking- they are normally of naked women, and that sounds quite saucy to me." Jon was chortling into his goblet. Davos needed to make one thing clear. "Do you think it wise to be drunk, tonight, your grace?"

Jon scrutinised him, while refilling his goblet in retaliation. "I'm not drunk, I'd have to drink thrice as much to get pissed."

"Your wife...might not...like it."

The goblet came down. "Oh she'll like _it_." Jon said with not a trace of mirth, Davos thought he could have at least turned it into a joke, it very nearly was a threat. "She'll have to put up with it, I can perform with or without wine."

 _This man needs a sedative, or his head rung like a bell._ Davos cleared his throat. "I could give you something better, I can have some Possyt made."

Sam's voice rung out at the table. "We've brought possyt!" Everyone stopped to stare at him. Davos must have forgot to lower his voice, but Jon appeared concerned because, if Sam had managed to hear that, what else could he have been heard, and what of Sansa? Davos knew talking about each other behind their backs wouldn't be a sweet marriage.

Sansa looked from one to the other. "I've heard of possyt, is it some seeded cake?"

Randyll stared across at her. "No, sweet Queen, it's a hot soothing creamy drink with vanilla and nutmeg, which I'm very surprised you haven't heard of, don't they make such things in the north?"

Jon looked very peed off, he had a reckless slump into one side of the chair. "No, we have ale, and mead, and wine. We don't need anything fancy." Davos got the impression Jon was about to hurl some abuse, luckily Sansa was keen to try some possyt.

"You said you have some, do you carry it all the way from Horn hill?- I hope it's still fresh."

Davos wondered if this was Sansa's attempt to smooth things over, or to undermine the King. "I'm sure we have those ingredients to make some of our own, and not diminish the Tarlys supply, because it's very moreish." The adviser said gently, but Jon was deathly silent.

Sam was quite gleeful he had started a discussion that involved the whole table. "We wouldn't mind, it's needs to be used."

Sansa frowned. "If it is as lovely as you say, why do you have any to spare?"

"Wedding gift." Sam said, and his father seemed to do an odd jerk, Sansa believed it was a kick Sam under the table- because Samwell jumped a foot into the air. "Ah wait, gift, sorry, just a gift. We, of course didn't know about any such wedding. So I could say from this point...it's a wedding gift."

Sansa glanced over at her King, a conversation went undetected through them, ' _that was odd'- 'Yeah, it was' – 'Are we accepting this or not?'_ Jon sat up. "That's very kind of you, I think I have been convinced into sampling some possyt, my wife's keen." She couldn't tell if that heated look was anger, or admiration. _How can you get those mixed up?_

Randyll clapped his hands. "Excellent, we shall unload the barrel, we'll have it sent to the kitchens once we're done."

"Or perhaps you could do it now?" Jon said, resting his chin on his hand, his finger strayed up to stroke his beard. Making it obvious, he wasn't in the mood to wait.

The Queen noticed Davos give her a quick thumbs up. It was so fluid she nearly missed it. _What on earth..?_ Randyll had already left the table to speak to one of his men, she could see some urgency, _it was only a drink._

The drink was good. It held up to its description; it was smooth, creamy, spiced, and she was sure there were traces of lemon, she drank deeply, humming as she did, and she politely asked for a second, which was granted, and that too was down her throat faster than a lemon cake. It was after her 6th in the evening, she realised it had given her an alcoholic aftertaste. When she commented, Davos explained the drink was mixed with a spoon of sweet wine. "And- be careful." He added, before Jon retorted harshly-

"-Belt up, Davos, let her drink her fill."

"You are sweet to me." The queen smiled, stroking the top of her husband's knuckles. "I have a new favourite thing." Her head slowly leant on the side of his chair, until Jon adjusted her against his shoulder. "Never let me go a day without this."

Jon couldn't stop smirking. _Oh heck_. Davos was hoping the recipe of the possyt, would have the original desired effect; drowsiness, and uninterrupted sleep. But at this moment, he was seeing elevated levels of happiness, but a calm happiness. "I was just saying, it's very rich, perhaps you should save some for the morning?"

"Morning?- What for...hey." Jon sounded like he was about to call Davos for a fight, he seemed to grip his shoulder hard enough to incite that kind of reaction. "Is that what good advice sounds like, take possyt in the morning?!" His voice was booming, Sansa who was starting to slump, but the noise woke her up.

"It's morning already?"

"No, sweet wife, this man and I were talking about morning." He said at her as if she were across the room, not merely a chair away, as she was."But that reminds me, we have to go to bed at some point!" His voice was still at a ridiculous volume. _Thank heavens, their guests had bid them goodnight at the first goblet._ Sansa's head drooped towards the table once more, until it settled on the crumbed surface. _Yep, she was gone_."In fact, we'd better go right now, while I'm still-" Davos averted his eyes when Jon grabbed his crotch.

The older gent placed a steady hand on his king's arm. "Your grace, I doubt you will be able to-"

"-Shut the fuck up." He jolted the hand off him. "You and your possyt." He rumbled. The advisor tried not the flinch, but he did blink- that was the loudest yet, and yet it had not disturbed Sansa. Jon was over her again, he swept her hair to one side so could look upon her face. "Bloody great, why the hell did anyone think possyt would make a good gift to newlyweds, you give a girl warm milk she's bound to turn into a sleeping babe."

"I suppose it was its purpose, to be a sedative for nervous brides and bridegrooms, it was once used for insomnia."

"You knew what you were doing, why didn't you just spike our drinks with bloody essence of nightshade?"

"I hate the risk." He said honestly, but realised he had incriminated himself by admitting he wanted to put them to sleep. "You both need a good rest." He added, trying to be soothing as possible."You can't expect anything from her tonight."

Jon toyed with his bride's auburn hair and said gently."Beggars can't be choosers." He stooped, tucked an arm under her legs and put the other around her back and lifted her out of the chair.

Davos was dumbfounded. _Had he accepted what he had said?_ This was Jon Snow, he was honourable so; yes he would. Sansa's head had lolled off away from her body, until it was correctly supported on the shoulder of the King. _It looked sweet_. The guards opened the doors as he walked out and down the hall. Seeing the mass of leather and black hair, with red locks draped over one arm looked like something out of a book. The advisor remained in the hall as the servants came to clear the tables. He smiled at the empty cake plates, and pitchers of possyt. _Beggars can't be choosers?_ He looked to the now closed door. _You can't expect anything from her tonight_ \- followed by – _Beggars can't be choosers._ He suddenly felt nauseous, that sounded very... Davos then walked in haste towards the doors.


	10. Chapter 10

Davos burst into the King and Queen's chamber, it was against protocol, and rude to boot. He surveyed the room, the King was just looking across at him with surprise, his wife was draped across the bed, still clothed, with Jon laying on top of her legs, leaning over her, hands about her ribs. _He believed if Sansa had been alert she would be in pain_. Though he considered he might have just walked in as Jon had put her down, and had lost his balance. _That seems more accurate._

"Your majesty...I...forgive me- I forgot to wish you goodnight." He felt _bloody_ stupid. "So Goodnight."

Jon looked as if he didn't believe a word, he straightened, and tugged at his tunic. "Right, and now you have, what's wrong?" He stood firm, and Davos did as well. "Why are you...?- If you think I'm going to let you stand there and watch, then you have completely misjudged my character." He jested, and it did anything but break the tension.

 _Watch what?- Gods be damned!_ His advisor weighed up his options on what to say."-With all due respect, your grace, I think you should call for your wife's handmaiden."

"I'm sure if I manage to arouse her, she can get herself ready, if not... I can be of some assistance, putting on a nightie looks simple enough." It was a low rumble, which held some jollity. "...Why are you still here?"

"I really think you need a maid right now."

"I'm not getting a maid involved!" He grumbled, then there was a sudden change in his demeanour as sort of annoyed thoughtfulness. "Wait- you weren't suggesting...?" He cocked a brow. "As a mistress?!"

 _Holy shit._ The older gent was surprised he didn't yell that for the whole castle to hear. "Your grace, I meant for the handmaiden to help ready your wife for sleep." He was hoping some reasoning would sink into his charge, surely Jon could hear himself, rethink, and look at Sansa as a woman he grew up with. "Please, I beg of you, a marriage needs to be based on trust, you would be violating that trust, and you would be violating her." He suddenly had an image of Shireen screaming for her father. "You can't undo such a mistake."

"You do realise I was going to wake her up first! Gods! I'm her husband, I'm sure she would want to be in bed with the right attire. Gods, Davos!" Jon messed with his hair, turning his back on the thing that infuriated him. "She would have woken up at some point, either before, during or...afterwards!"

 _Oh gods, he should have stopped there_ , _afterwards?- After what the dressing or the bedding_? The adviser felt the room had become too hot, it must be because of the pent up frustration. Jon finally relented, he grimaced, and cussed. "Send for the fucking handmaiden." He snared his night shirt and stormed off into the other room, and Davos felt everything slacken. _He had most likely saved her, he wasn't sure what from, perhaps he was simply dressing her, but the act could lead to temptation._ Sansa still lay comatose on the bed, looking radiant and peaceful, she murmured and rolled slightly. _Why would Jon do such a callous act?_ As he got closer he saw her skirt had been slightly hitched up at the front, it was only the external layer, nothing was on show, buts its manner made him feel very nervous. _That could have been an accident._

He threw open the chamber door and called down the hall. "Agnes?.. Someone call for Agnes, the queen needs attending to!" Perhaps he could remain here afterwards to make sure nothing- _You can't guard Sansa forever_. "Where is that blasted gir-" A woman emerged from the darkness of the hall. "Aa...Agnes, dress your queen for bed."

"Might I ask what are you doing in here at this hour?" The girl was impudent.

He did a double take. "I'm here... for the interests of the King, and that is _ser_ to you, mi'lady." Though he highly doubted she was a lady.

She waltzed past him and patted down her grace's skirt. "Where is our King, Ser?" She pulled Sansa into a sitting position, a little fast and rough.

The Queen murmured prettily. "Mmh." It was odd how something so lazy was made graceful by the queen.

Davos stared at Agnes for an unprecedented length of time before tipping his head towards the other chamber. "He's in there."

She started by unpicking the tie on the Queen's outer robe."And will you be supervising me, while I undress her, ser?" Just as he studied the woman again, Sansa stirred.

"Is... it ...morning?" She moaned as her maid pulled the dress off her shoulders.

"No your grace, it's bedtime, I must help you get ready." Agnes smiled at her Queen, she had doe-like eyes as she looked from the handmaiden to the advisor. She weakly pushed at her aid, as if feebly protesting. "No..." It came out as slow as a snail. "What's going on?" She said with such childlike delirium, and Davos felt himself melt bearing witness to it. "Why are you... both here?"

The advisor glanced to the other chamber. Jon was not present. "The dinner has ended, I was just talking to his majesty- I'll be off now, your grace. Goodnight." He made to leave, and until he heard further delirium.

"No...not you...get away from me!"

Davos turned, Sansa was fighting off her handmaiden. "Your grace, she is only trying to help." He tried, and it became apparent the maid wasn't backing down despite being swotted. "Perhaps, since she is alert you should-" Jon suddenly entered his line of vision, he was standing intrusively behind the maid. "Oh dear me."

"I think that's enough." He clapsed at his wife's swotting hand, and pulled the maid up by the shoulder- Davos could see he was trying to be courteous. "She obviously doesn't want you undressing her tonight, you may go..." He waved his hand, not knowing how to address the woman. "Sorry-"

"- Agnes, your grace."

Davos was certain he heard her purr, _she would have to go-_ "Off you go then, mi'lady." And he was happy to see her scuttle off without a protest. He made sure she was well out of the way before commenting. "Her attitude is very unusual, if I-"He heard a scuffle to his left-

"Woaw." Jon was crawling over the bed trying to apprehend his wife, she had rolled herself to the other side of the bed in an attempt to get away. _From him, she was in a good mood earlier?_ Jon had seized her after it was too late, she had rolled off the bed and was on the floor. "Bloody hell, she's going to be covered in bruises." Her outer dress hanging off at the waist, she crawled away, and Jon crudely stood on an empty sleeve of her dress to halt her, and she fell on her side, stuck in her own dress.

"Your graces." Davos uttered on deaf ears. Sansa was eating up all the sound, her dress rustling as she writhed about on the floor.

"Sweetheart, you're tangling yourself, stop fighting." His King said with the genteelness of a septa, walking over her so she was between his two feet. Sansa ceased all struggles, and just rolled onto her back, she stared at the ceiling as if recovering from a nightmare. Breathing heavily, sweet shimmering on her face and collar. "Hey." He squatted, nearly sitting on her. "Hey now." Davos noticed Jon was only trying to get her attention. "Sansa."

The movement in her eye indicated she had indeed been looking elsewhere, but was now looking at her husband. "I want to go home." Her voice was no longer slurring. "I want to be at home."

Davos watched as Jon shifted onto his knees, he was practically straddling her now. "You are home." His hand moved to her cheek.

"Maybe I should go, I feel like a third wheel over here." The advisor shuffled away from the intimacy of the situation. Jon called over, causing him to ease up before the door.

"I forgot you were still here."

"Well, I'm not here." The advisor bowed his head. "I bid you goodnight." And he left very stiffly, he couldn't bring himself to close the door behind him, he was moody, and unsettled by everything. The maid, the King, and Sansa- _she wanted to go home_. Agnes, there was something strange about her, well she was rude for a handmaiden for a queen. He didn't normally let such trivial things bother him, he normally grew to like the people that were stubborn. But this Agnes, had not yet been polite to him and all the time she had worked there, even when not interacting with him, she would stare- _no not stare; smoulder._ After dithering outside, the door suddenly clicked shut.

In her confusion after waking up, she assumed this was some delayed bedding ceremony, two people were present in her chambers, undressing her. _Well Davos was standing there looking a little gormless._ But Agnes, had intent etched on her face, and she knew the maid was the witch. To say she was anxious was an understatement, so she struggled, and it paid off, but the commotion had drew her husband into the fray.

Soon as the witch left her side, she noted groggily her husband in his nightshirt. It was indeed bedtime. Sansa felt cold, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her shoulders were bare, she was down to her shift, her dress bunched up at the waist. Sansa could see the tops of her breasts above her shift. _Seven heavens, I'm naked_. Since her husband was directly in front of her watching the witch leave, she couldn't barge past- _after all she was naked_.

The queen was compelled to get to the other chamber or at least the modesty screen, she heaved her legs up and rolled, the roll reminded her she was in no fit state for such a manoeuvre. She felt something fawning over her as she travelled across the bed. _Tentacles...no talons of a dragon! Do dragons have talons?_ Sansa then dropped off the end of the earth. _Ugh-the bed is too small_. She was on the floor, and Jon was about to step down from the bed, she thought he was going to crush her, so she hurriedly crawled away across the flag stones. There was a rapid sensation of a rug being pulled from under her and she flopped onto the stone. When she tried to regain her crawl stance she couldn't move further than a couple of inches, upon her investigation she found his foot was on her sleeve. _There was no chance._ She was stuck in her dress, she could have got out of the dress with a little effort but she would just have a shift between her skin and the air. So she rolled onto the sleeve staring up at the heavens- tired and full of defeat. He was over her now, but she couldn't focus on that- she didn't know if he had anything on under his long shirt.

"Hey." He squatted, which was a risky manoeuvre. "Hey now." _What did he want?_ He was close, he smelt of leather and musk. A smell she knew from home."Sansa."

Sansa looked into those stormy eyes, she wanted to know what he was seeing. _Did he actually see a literal storm?- Or was it fire, did his death replay in his head?_ He always looked angry, she figured he saw his murderers more than his dying moments.

The queen got a fleeting image of how Winterfell used to be before she left for King's landing. Then an image of Jon standing in the courtyard discussing pranks with Arya. "I want to go home." She heard herself, she was imploring. "I want to be at home."

His hard face dissolved into a vexed one, but whatever face he had- it was still Jon. He clambered down onto his knees, hovering over her pelvis, poised to sit on her. If anybody else had done this, it would have been a threat. But this was her husband straddling her.

"You are home." He crooned with a husk, his hand went to her cheek, his callous thumb moved over her skin to her upper lip.

That's when Davos spoke. _Oh crap, how embarrassing, forgot you were still there._ She didn't acknowledge him, but she did watch Jon vent her own thoughts. She spent this time studying his face. He had a feminine face, but the brow, if it weren't for the brow, _and the beard_ \- he would make a handsome woman, but a sad woman. When Jon wasn't scolding, she would catch him when he was sad. That sadness would haunt his persona when he was young, when his eyes weren't crinkling with laughter, he would brood. _But still, it was a face you could grow to love...that's probably the possyt talking._

At some point she heard their benevolent advisor leave.

Her hand strayed, she stroked her husband knee next to her waist. "Tell me what you're thinking." Sansa asked. He hadn't taken his eyes off her, not even when talking to Davos.

"I could ask you the same thing, at least someone will get an answer."

 _Was he saying she was a talker, a typical woman who nattered away her jaw, or was he admitting to being stubborn when it came to sharing his sombre feelings?_

He was agile as he leapt up off her without falter. Her King crossed the room to the shut the door, and she slowly sat up from her heap of tangled fabric, he returned to get her to her feet. His hand came out and she reached for it with little hesitation. Jon yanked her up with a bit of force, all so he could pull her into him, close as anybody could get; nose to nose. Sansa was inundated with his scent and eyes, and she feared she would swoon, but she knew she would regret doing that, since a swoon could lead to anything. _And she was scared of...everything._

She was still groggy, so she couldn't fight the force, she slumped forward. Sansa probably reeked of possyt and chicken, but it didn't matter; he was sucking in her air like it was perfume, and he traced it back to her mouth. His lips became a part of hers, caressing the upper and lower, his tongue flitted into the gap- skimming her teeth. They were slow ministrations, slow enough that they weren't intrusive or overwhelming. Her eyes had closed, feeling the wet heat of his desire, the taste of wine, and there were noises too. Murmurs of interest, that was until he suddenly pressed her close and plundered her mouth. That woke her up for sure, that's when the panic set in, and she opened her eyes, he was holding her head in place as he began to devour _._ Her attempt at speaking terminated the frenzy. "-Myour gwace!-"

He reared back, chucking his hair from his face, and still clutching his wife's head. "Oh bloody hell." He looked at her bruised mouth waiting for an explanation to come out of it. "You can call me Jon, what is it, sweetheart?"

"I'm tired." That's probably not what he wanted to hear, but she had said it, and she had most likely crushed his hopes of a consummation. "Sorry, Jon." She stroked one of the hands that were on her droopy face, embarrassed by her meek retort.

It was a middling of a smile he gave her, it was assuring- _at least he wasn't mad_. But the guttural sound that escaped him would make any woman's bosom heave with fear. His forehead fell to hers, and she allowed it to sit there, mixing their sweat. "Not as sorry as I." He said with defeat. But she questioned why in her mind.

She felt her dress hanging from her, tugging on her shift. She withdrew cagily. "I'd better finish off-" Indicating to her state of dress. The divider beckoned her, and with her possyt addled brain she staggered to it, nearly knocking it over. She finally reached the shadow of the divider to hide and de-robe.

"I wish someone would finish me off." She heard him rumble. _But he already had his nightshirt on?_

She rustled out of her things and slipped into her nightgown. Her fingers went to her mouth as if feeling for the traces of Jon that remained, she could taste the wine and smell the musk. Sansa emerged quicker than the last time, ignoring him standing gormlessly in the middle of the room, ruffling his own hair. She clambered into bed, tugging the sheet to her chin. The Queen watched Jon meander to their bed. He came at the bedside with a bit of a plod in his step, and he slipped under the sheet, close to her, their sides touching.

"Can I take off my shirt?"

She blinked unevenly."Did you sleep well without it last night?" It came out at an odd pitch since her body was attempting to yawn. "You might be cold."

Jon gurned as if he wasn't sure. "I sleep the same every night; badly, doesn't make a difference, shirt or nothing. I doubt I'll get cold."

Sansa didn't know how to reply to that comment, she had nothing to suggest. "Erm." He was waiting earnestly, a finger seemingly wagging his collar. _He was hot_. "Without." She said not making eye contact with him.

"Really?" Scrutinising this decision, somewhat bemused and surprised.

Sansa didn't like his glee. _Well Jon wasn't the type to be gleeful, so it was mirth_. "That doesn't mean I'm no longer tired, I intend to sleep in this bed tonight, and nothing more."

She heard him wrestling off the shirt, and then throw it to the floor. "You should try this sometime, love, it's liberating." _Was he talking about being shirtless?_

"It doesn't seem practical."

"It's very practical."

She just caught the end of his smile. "When women walk around coverless, it's anything but liberating." She put eloquently.

"Have you ever asked other women?- And I mean women below your station?" Jon inquired, he was still, while staring at the canopy.

"I don't think any women want to walk around naked, not even... _those women_." She faltered at the implication of prostitutes. "I suppose if there weren't any men about...then maybe." The queen continued cautiously. "Well, some women don't like being naked in front of women either. Nudity is only comfortable around oneself." Sansa had intentions to cease the conversation there and blow out her candle, she was tired after all.

"That would be a very lonesome world to live in, Sansa."

 _How could he possibly know she was talking about her?_ "It already is." _Maybe he didn't, maybe he was just speaking in general._ Sansa twisted her head to him. "How many people have you encountered in your lifetime you would approach unguarded and naked?"

Jon was very still, as she was, listening intently. "Naked and unarmed?- Well a few of my friends in the night's watch, then of course; Lord Stark, Robb, but I think their guard would be up if I approached them naked." He found that funny, she could hear him stifling a snigger, he gradually sobered- clearing his throat. "Probably you."

It hung in the air like a noose. When she sensed he was about to look at her, she made sure she was staring at the window by the time he did look. Sansa couldn't blow out the candle, it felt rude to end the conversation there. _But what to say after that?_ "But you'd be exposed, you'd have nothing to hide."

"It's only you here." He laughed. "You're my wife, you're going to see _it_ a lot." He cleared his throat immediately afterwards, and for the first time he sounded like he was embarrassed. This was how she remembered old Jon. "Occasionally." It was a correction, but it was a little too late.

She could feel the heat of his body through her nightgown, but at least it wasn't ice cold. _This would be a bad time to shuffle away from it_. "How many other women have seen it?" _The queen didn't know where that came from_ , she swallowed when she heard herself. The void that followed made her mouth dry.

"Why do you ask this?"

The queen detected he was staring at her again. Sansa didn't believe it was jealousy that got her to pose this question."Have you ever been to a brothel?" _Where was this coming from?_ She shuffled at that moment, just about an inch away, but she disguised it well. Her King rapidly turned on his side, his whole body directed at her. _Thank goodness for the sheets._ But the swift movement had been intimidating. "I'm not going to judge you if you did, I'm just curious, your grace, in fact you don't have to tell me, that's a stupid question... a stupid curiosity...Just ignore me." It was a ramble, _surely that would annoy him?_ But she glimpsed teeth from the corner of her eye, it took her out of her festering thoughts of self-loathing. _That was a smile, or silent laughter, maybe he was snarling?_

"I've been to a brothel, well...tavern."

Sansa tried not to look surprised _, though perhaps maybe she should out of respect_? "O...Was it nice?" _Stupid girl, why did you think he went there?_ But there was a tinge of disappointment, that he behaved like other men, men that she would flee from, men that weren't like her brother; Robb, and her father. Though for a time she had to accept her father had lay with another woman that wasn't her mother.

Jon finally rolled onto his back. "I was petrified."

She heard it, and listened out for his breathing. He was embarrassed. "By the brothel, or by the...act?" Her disappointment had ebbed away. She shouldn't ever doubt him as an honourable man.

"The brothel held so many women, and there was a time when they scared me."

"-I remember, you were so shy." She recalled a lesson she gave him on talking to girls.

He nudged her with his elbow. "Lesson 1; ask their name, lesson 2; compliment their name."

"-That's pretty." She echoed what she had suggested that day, and she heard him say it back. His voice had been different then."It was just before your voice broke." Her chortling matched Jon's own. "That voice wouldn't suit you now." The chortling continued, Sansa could feel it vibrating the bed. She sobered when she realised he hadn't finished the story. "So what did you do in the brothel?" _Stupid girl._

He continued in a jovial manner as if he was still discussing her lessons."I went in with Theon, and he said we could choose." Sansa stared at the canopy, _why did she ask?_ "I just stood there, as the women waited. Not all waited patiently, some came to me with their breasts..." He made a gesture to indicate they were on display. The queen stared at the space his hands occupied. "They sort of...fondled me." He had trouble letting that out, she wasn't surprised. "I remember hearing Theon laughing, it rang in my ears." Sansa could see it now, and hear the laughter. _Poor Jon_. Her husband continued. "They said, 'Can't yer speak, who do you want, boy?' and that's when I just pointed at one of the women..."

Sansa felt a blush come to her cheeks, she fixated on the canopy. She pictured a faceless woman with enormous breasts. "And did they give you a room?" _How was she to know they didn't just drop to the tavern floor?_ "Somewhere private?"

"Yes, she guided me up stairs, and she brought me into one of the rooms of the tavern. And she just stripped off, everything. I had already seen her breasts, but now I could see belly...um...thighs, the auburn hair on her..."

Her face must have become a tomato, the blush had become a hot flush. She couldn't fan herself, she couldn't let her husband see her getting flustered with this conversation. "And did you?"

"No, I left."

Silence consumed them. She tore her eyes from the canopy to look at him. "Is that sarcasm?"

"No, I actually left." He said with slight disbelief. "She was right there, waiting, and I left."

A slow smile split her face. "I hope you still paid her."

Her king turned to her again. "That's a strange thing to say."

 _What?_ "She removed her clothes, let her guard down for you, revealed all- you looked, then you left, you should still pay her for the trouble."

Jon looked gormless. She remembered this from her past too. He laughed at the response. "I left her something, it wasn't much." He fell quiet again, probably letting the story sink in. She could see the cogs in his brain turning, she wasn't sure if it was guilt or embarrassment. "I'm not sure what I was going to afford anyway." He flipped onto his back again, expelling a sigh.

"If you couldn't afford it, why would you try, you weren't going to trick them, were you?" Her groggy state of mind gave her an edge, she felt herself yawn again, but the subject was anything but boring. "Have your wicked way with her and climb out of the window?" _Bran used to be good at climbing._ It was a random thought, which brought her sadness. The Queen found her King smirking at her. "What?"

"They have a list of things they can do, each a different price." He injected cagily, his head shifted on his pillow as if finally settling down to sleep, his head faced her and she had no urge to hide, she turned onto her side, facing him.

"What is the going rate for a girl?"

He frowned. "You really want to know of such things?"

"Yes." She tucked her clasped hands under her chin, staring at him inquisitively.

After some deliberation, he sighed."A groat."

"That's two loaves of bread." Sansa said with surprise. "You would have had her for two loaves of bread!"

"I knew I shouldn't have told you." She felt he was getting restless. "I only had half, but she didn't seem to mind, it felt like she was going to be generous." He said, again with a tinge of embarrassment. "I think for half she would have..." He raised his hand to do a gesture- but he faltered and dropped it to his chest. "I assumed."

"Never assume, Jon Snow." She said with mock severity. He returned a pensive look, it occurred to her that was anything but his name. "I'll miss your old name." She said carefully, hoping she hadn't offended him.

"A bastard name, one I never thought I would miss. I doubt you would have married me with such a name." There was curiosity there, _he was testing her._

It wasn't as if she was given a choice, she had to correct him, but in a way that meant she was fine with the arrangement. "It was a popular opinion that we should marry, your name didn't matter...though probably that was because it was a false name." She tried a reassuring smile. "But what's in a name?- We should be judged on a fetes and choices rather than a title. If you were a bastard, I still would have named you 'king'."

The bed was very warm, and more so with his heated look. It wasn't anger, but she had no way of responding to it, or tame it.

"You've always been a Queen." He perpetuated his heated look, even when expressing this softly.

Sansa didn't think he was being sincere, she gave him a wary look. "I've always had a title, I didn't earn it, nor have I proven myself a Queen." She felt like her eyes were about to prickle with tears, she didn't let her emotions run awry. "I'm no real Queen, I'm the king's wife."

His hand snaked under the covers towards her, she felt his hand on her forearm. "Do you hate being a _wife_?...That is a very busy and rewarding profession, what more do you expect to do, you've done a marvellous job so far..."

"You're mocking me."

"Woaw- No." He stared her down. "I certainly wasn't, you coaxed me into assembling an army to take back Winterfell, you run the household like an army yourself, you've kept our private life, private-"

"We've only been married 2 days, and Davos seems to know more about us than we do." She calmed herself so they weren't heard. "Pretty soon the whole castle will know everything, I'm a fraud. Why do they expect something wonderful to happen in the first couple of days of being on a throne?" She felt his hand stroking her arm. "I envy how easy you find this."

"Find what...?"

Sansa stared incredulously at him, and gestured at him and the air around them. He clearly didn't see. "Everything!"

"That's very vague, love." _Why did it always feel like he was secretly laughing at her?_ "What am I finding so easy?"

"A week ago I was married to a monster, you were supposedly dead." She heard Jon huff. "Next moment you were alive thanks to some magic, which has never existed until that moment, you weren't just resurrected- but you found out you are most likely not my bastard half brother, then I was widowed and then we married. And now the majority of the north expects our union to work just like magic, they don't seem at all bothered about our history, and they have high expectations that you are going to save the realms of men from ice monsters. It's too much." She stared hard at the man next to her, he was looking a little gormless.

He pushed himself up from his side. "You're right, I'm coping quite well... I think it's because we're sharing the burden." It was her turn to huff at this anti-climax. "The majority of what you said feels like you're concerned our marriage won't thrive under those conditions."

Sansa squinted at him. "Huh?"

Jon stroked the lump that was her hip, over the blanket. "Let me worry about this dark magic at work, I'll focus on future, you focus on present, take it a day at a time." His hand seemed to wander to her waist. "Wife." He crooned, extracting his hand from her person, he then twisted to his side table to blow out his candle. "We aren't proper siblings, so our consummation would hardly be scandalous, sweetheart." He heard her then puff out her own candle, and the room plunged into darkness. "Are you game?"

"Slip me a groat and I'll think about it."


	11. Chapter 11

R&R- My reviews have been synced to me.

* * *

Sansa spent the next week briefing the servants on what was expected in the castle, Podrick had many recommendations. She listened to him, seeing his eagerness to please. The squire had given up his training hours to mill around her division of the castle, he had gotten that used to being ordered about by a woman; Brienne, it only seemed logical for him to seek out another. But she was no Brienne of Tarth. She had no armour for him to clean, and no swords for him to sharpen. Her handmaidens would argue with him, telling him to reserve the Queen's chores for them. If she ever caught 'Agnes' bartering with Podrick, she would shoo her away.

"You miss her, don't you?" Sansa commented one afternoon.

"Your grace." He dipped his head courteously. "My mistress has been gone too long, my routine has gone awry. I apologise if I bother you, I just wish to serve someone who has the closest ties to her."

"I miss her too, it's a shame Arya didn't stick with her, they would have got on." Sansa scrutinised him, the manservant was benevolent, but at this moment looked on the verge of disagreeing with her. "Well there's nothing I can do now but wait for conformation."

"Could I fetch you some parchment to write down-"

-"You're a squire, Podrick, not a handmaiden, what will the other squires think?"

"They didn't like me to begin with anyway." He said with all honesty. "Your grace."

"If any of them do anything, send them to my husband- he needs more flesh to bruise." They shared a secret smile. She sobered, looking at the recently made bed, Podrick followed her eye. _He_ _probably thought she was going to comment on the lack of bedding and plenty of sleep, but odd dreams._ "Where does Agnes go, when she isn't here, Pod?" She fought against the urge to gossip.

Podrick appeared not to have expected that question, in relation to the bed. "Agnes, your grace?" He stared blankly to the side of her. "I don't know much, she is able to navigate the castle in such a way, I never see her anywhere but here, and maybe in the courtyard, I don't even know if she has her own quarters, let alone sleeps."

Sansa felt something should be done. "Does she speak to anyone?"

Podrick was curious about the Queen's interest in the harmless maid. "I think she speaks to everyone; you, the other handmaidens, me... the King."

Her ears perked up. "When?"

"When he's in the courtyard, not for long mind you, I used to think she was your messenger, and she was passing things onto him." Podrick was an asset to her.

"Have you ever listened to her, when she with the King?"

Podrick looked uncomfortable, this irked her. "She...whispers."

She put her embroidery down on her lap. "How curious." Sansa believed Podrick had read her tone.

"But I wouldn't worry, his manner is the same as always, your grace."

She toyed with her needle, studying Podrick's feet, he was cagey. "Podrick, I'm going to ask you to do something for me."

"Anything, but I have a feeling I know..."

Sansa smiled, pulling a stitch through her cloth. "Follow her, befriend her- if you can, if she is ever with my king, stay with my King. I expect I won't see you for some time." Podrick bobbed his head. "Thank you, Pod." He left her, and immediately she missed him, he was nice company, her only company who seeks her out during the day, apart from her maids.

* * *

Sansa sat on her lounger reading one of her favourite fables, she heard the chink and clang of her husband along with the rustle of his leather, but he hardly made a noise with that mouth of his- it was like he held his breath when he came into the room. He had the air of untameable moodiness. She kept her eyes in her book as he dithered by the bed, another figure had followed him in, followed by another. The last person that had entered was assisting her husband with his armour. _By the gods, he's actually allowing a squire to help him?_ When she finally looked up to register Podrick, she noticed the other person in the room was Agnes. _A ha,_ _well she did say follow her and stay with the King._ Agnes was turning down the bed. It amused her to see Podrick watch her like a hawk all the while unclasping Jon. The Queen while downcast could see Jon reflectively staring at the handmaiden. _What on earth...?- Had Podrick spoke to Jon of his mission?_

"Your grace?"

"Agnes." Sansa looked up fully from her book, even though her eyes were already on her husband.

"Shall I help you with your night attire?" Her handmaiden was holding her chamber pot, as if expecting the queen to decline assistance with de-robing, and do another task.

Sansa was still in her day clothes, and Podrick was still present. _How was this a good time to assist her out of her clothes?_ She coiled a red lock around her finger, studying everyone's reaction to this query. Jon was looking at the space between the bed and them, and Podrick was openly watching them. She hoped he would have the decency to advert his eyes if she did decide to- "Of course." She said absently, and the air in the room changed. Podrick ducked behind Jon, turning her King into a modesty screen. Her King had fleetingly looked at her to gauge her intention before settling on looking anywhere but at the two women.

"Your grace?" Agnes was clearly surprised she had received consent, and awkwardly put down the chamber pot. Sansa arose like a goddess from the lounger with open arms. "Of course, your grace." It was like she had given the witch a boot up the backside. She saw Agnes gesture to the divider, but Sansa stood firm. _You can do this._

"That's okay, let's do it here." Soon as she said it, she knew it would motivate herself to follow through. _Face him, or face away?_ Jon was down to just his leather, Podrick was peeling off his outer shell of black and brown. Neither were looking, but it was obvious they weren't ignorant to what was about to unfold. "Let's be quick about it, I don't want gooseflesh, thank you." Sansa tried to look as dignified as possible, even though no one would see it, except the witch, whom looked proud.

"Right." Agnes flicked her Queen's hair over her shoulder and began unclasping at her waist, the outer robe was pulled open, to reveal her bodice. Sansa felt the cold immediately, but she felt at least two pairs of eyes burning into the flesh on her bare shoulders, as the robe was pulled back and away. Agnes circled to collect the gown that was hanging about her arms. She lost a bit of her calm, since Agnes wasn't shielding her, so she dipped her head to spare her blushes. She could feel Agnes hands making fast work on her laces on her back, she was peeling the loose bodice away, and the shift was coming with it. Sansa lost her nerve and turned her back to the men. Agnes had to waltz around to get to her back again. The witch gave all the garments a good shove downwards, and they toppled to the floor, she was now naked as the day she was born. The cold erected her nipples, and her hands automatically sort her breasts for comfort. Hopefully her maid was blocking the view of her pert derriere from the man she had married and his squire. "Are you sure you want your night garments tonight, your grace?"

This witch wasn't her advisor, she gave her a very condescending look. "Until they go out of fashion, I'll wear them." Agnes dipped politely, and disappeared behind the screen to retrieve the gown, deliberately leaving Sansa exposed for a couple of seconds, before her maid returned to pull the cotton dress over her head. Sansa was relieved to be covered once more. She turned to find Podrick had gone and Jon standing there in his skivvies. Agnes had the audacity to look- which earned her a scalding from her Queen. "You're done now, aren't you? Or do wish to gawk at my husband some more?"

Agnes smiled at her and left without a curtsey. She saw her husband make sure the maid was gone before passing a verdict. "I'd watch out for her, she's looking for dead woman's shoes." She had heard this expression before, and only now knew its meaning. _The spare wife._

"She would be the cause." _The witch probably wanted her dead_. "She better keep her distance." Sansa uttered, remaining where she was. His armour had been dumped in the arm chair as if Podrick had left in a hurry.

Jon frowned and followed her gaze. "I...err- sent him away as soon as the bodice came-" He did a gesture, and realised he had admitted to watching, he coughed- "Never mind, eh?" He chucked himself keenly on the bed, the headboard rattled. _Probably the only time she'll hear it._ "Did I detect jealousy?"

 _Ha! He'd be lucky._ Sansa gave a single bark, incredulous. "She's a witch!"

"Never thought you would say a thing like that. Little miss perfect." His hands leisurely interlocked behind his head.

She was certain it was just an excuse to flex, she could see every muscle bulging. She put her back to such a masculine display and sat in front of her vanity dresser. As she brushed her hair she could still see him in her mirror. "You do realise that girl isn't just a maid called Agnes, that's the red witch in disguise."

The flexing didn't stop, _he naturally looked like that_. The headboard rattled as he sat bolt upright. "Melisandre."

"Oh that's pretty." Finally hearing the name out loud from her husband's mouth, she continued to brush her hair staring at Jon who was looking a little worse for wear. "She helped me bathe the other day and appeared to me as herself." She heard a cuss, but ignored it. "She wants to help- with god knows what."

"That's what you meant by coming into the castle using sorcery?- She made herself look like a maid?- Are you sure that weren't just a maid?" His feet made their way to the floor. "I didn't know she had taken permanent residence here, it explains why 'Agnes' has been paying close attention to me."

Sansa's brush stalled in her red locks and she twisted. "Considering what they have heard, everyone has been paying close attention to you, you're a dead man walking."

He arose from the bed with speed, and her brush clattered to the floor. _Whoops_. Her hands had lost grip due to the anxiety that spread across her whole body.

"Sorry...I didn't mean you're dead-" She tried as she stooped to pick up her implement, and when she levelled, he was close behind her stool. Sansa could see his lean torso in the mirror. It was a familiar sight, she saw it every morning and night _._ For some reason her grip tightened on the brush as if it were a weapon, though it could be simply so she didn't drop it again. "Jon." She spoke to the stomach in the reflection, it moved, so she knew he could breathe. A dead man didn't need air. His arm came into view and he snared her brush from her mitts. "Jon." The Queen half expected to be struck with it, but instead he took it upon himself to brush her hair. He placed his fingers on the top of her head as he swept through her hair, to hold it firm. The bristles were soothing on her scalp, and he brushed her hair behind the ear. She always enjoyed someone else doing her hair, and it was a unique experience having a man do it. You could say it was overwhelming for her senses; the touch and tug, and those hands at work, she could smell him as well. The intoxicating aroma of... Her eyes were starting to droop. "You're making my hair stand on end." Sansa commented, then corrected. "I meant...static." Not wanting to mention how relaxed she was.

"Maybe that's enough." His hands threaded through her hair, before he drawled- "Fancy returning the favour?"

It was her own mind that made it sound like a drawl, he merely said it normally. _But the eyes_. "Are you asking a Queen to do a chore?" She sniped with falsity, her lips curling.

"I'll pay you a groat?"

She tried to stifle a laugh."Since when did men have their hair brushed anyway?" She had already accepted the task at hand, one look at the ruffled hair and she just wanted to play with it. Sansa shifted across with mock indignation so he could share her vanity seat. "If I have to, it is a mess." She lied.

"Right." Jon held out the brush, and just as her hand went for it, he lobbed it onto the bed.

"Oh how enchanting." She said sardonically.

"Do it on the bed, I can't perch on that thing." And he swaggered across the room to get into position. His Queen watched with trepidation as he got into a lounging position on his side. _Smooth_. She silently obliged and slowly joined him on the bed- not sure whether to lounge herself, or sit with her legs over the side of the bed, like riding side saddle. The sheets rustled and the bed creaked as she sought an adequate position, he watched her consumed with interest. Her decision would indicate her mood, and since she settled on 'the escapable legs off the bed position' and behind him, Jon probably knew she would do the task and the task alone.

The brushing...It was no easy assignment, it required two hands, and a lot of nerve. It wasn't knotted, just curly, she separated it into bunches so she could grip each section and brush without snagging and drawing noise from him. But he didn't make a sound, all she heard was the _cruucjhk_ from the brush, and her own murmurs of labour. After a section had had a couple of successful brush throughs, she would stroke it down, toy with its softness, soft enough to put your face in. _But she wouldn't._ When her hands skirted his forehead, to brush the bangs behind his ears, he rolled around to face her. This was probably to help her out, but she found it difficult, because now she felt like she was being watched. He probed, and it was subduing, she ceased all noise and lip biting, she must have looked stoic as she began his parting. It didn't look right for him to have a parting, so she started to smooth it back, forgetting herself and using her hands. The curls were between her fingers, his scent dispensed into the air. Sansa believed an enchantment had been cast, so she stopped. "Done." She announced, and wriggled off the bed to retrieve her book.

"Can I do yours again?"

She heard it, and she honestly didn't mind. _But why would a King stoop himself to being a handmaiden?_ "Of course you can, I suppose I could read at the same time." She had her sights set on the lounger, but she could read in bed. She clambered into the bed, and realised she would have to sit away from the headboard so he could get to her mane. "You'll get bored, it doesn't knot."

"You like knots?"

"I'm just saying there won't be a challenge." Sansa crossed her legs and placed her book there.

"But uninterrupted smoothness is hypnotic." He commented, and she couldn't agree more.

"Yes, I suppose, both to the brusher and the... brushee." The brush swept through, and the hypnosis began. _Maybe it was an enchantment, perhaps she should stop?_ She was scared of magic, and not being in control, but at that moment it didn't feel like she cared. No doubt if there was some unknown force at work- it was taking away her anxiety and wooing her. Sansa realized she had stopped reading, she had been on the same page for 10 minutes. When she got back into the story, she found the princess in the story was also brushing her hair. She shut the book and dropped it on the night stand. "I think I could write better." She settled back, to just savour the tugging.

"Why don't you?" Jon said after a moment of quiet.

Sansa had been speaking to herself, it wasn't a suggestion. "Oh, that's a silly notion, me write stories, what for?"

"Well people will write stories on us in books, why don't you write a book?"

Sansa scoffed. "I'll let the historians, archivers, and minstrels write about us. "She toyed with the hem of her nighty, dwelling on their story. "They can make it sound more epic." She was going to say with less tragedy- but their whole life was a tragedy. "With propaganda and ferocious beasts." It occurred to her she might have insulted their union. "Not that we haven't good stories to tell, it's just-"

"-It just isn't finished." Jon retorted, settling the brush down into her lap. "You can keep a journal, or write a story that isn't about us, a work of fiction?"

She turned to him, not quite believing what he was asking. "It sounds like something I would enjoy, it just has never crossed my mind, a woman writing a book, a Queen writing a book." She emphasized 'Queen' in her dulcet tone.

"You know what I enjoy?"

Jon appeared playful, and it scared the seven hells out of her. _Don't ask, don't ask._ "Training!" She said after a pregnant pause. "-You should write a book on training." She leapt from the bed, her brush fell to the floor, and she manoeuvred to the desk. "It could be another project for us...between winning the war, and..." _Defending the realms of men?_ "Rebuilding Winterfell."

"I won't have time for writing a book, there are things that need my attention." That odd tone still lingered, and she thought she had managed to squash all reminders of _carnal pursuits_. "Another project for us?..." _Damn she did say another earlier_ , _and they didn't even have a single project yet._ He shuffled on his knees on the bed in her direction. "Come here." It was very jovial, like he was talking to the wolf. _So completely harmless._

Sansa crossed the void she had created and stood before him, smiling politely. "Writing a book is a good idea, and I have many in my head...A tale of two sisters, a beauty and a beast, a man that cooked men in pies." She heard Jon chuckle while his fingers danced dangerously close to the hem of her nighty. _Keep talking- distract_. "Great suggestion, thank you by the way- it'll give me something to do." He was definitely burning a hole through her nighty, just staring at it and daring himself to lift it. _Move back to the desk._ "I better write that down before I forget." She retreated back to the desk.

"Women have good memories, you'll remember it, I'll remind you."

"I'll need adequate sleep in order to..." When she looked back he was on all fours, as if he was about to bark at her. _He's a Stark alright._ _How was this acceptable?-Stark on Stark, dear me, it's so Targerya-_ She straightened. "Makes sense."

"What does, love?"

Sansa studied him, and he simply gave a grimacy smile _._

"Don't you have council meeting tomorrow?" She was trying desperately to be polite as possible, she couldn't openly say no to whatever was on his mind. "I mean early tomorrow?"

Jon settled on his knees, and tore his eyes away from her. "Yeah..." Before crawling into bed with his tail tucked between his legs. "I suppose you're right."

That might have been a small victory, but she felt awful, and she got the feeling he wasn't in accordance with her. _He knew what she was doing._ She saw old Jon's smile, the solitary one.

When she climbed into bed, she felt a massive gap, bigger than the one she normally made herself. Jon was first to blow out the candle this night, and attempt to sleep. And he succeeded. She lay awake, listening to him breathe, it rattled and became very slow. The large pauses gave her seconds of fear, as if he was inches from death. Sansa looked and saw the slow rise and fall of his chest cavity, he was on his side, facing away from her. _Further proof he didn't like her tonight_. Her hand reached out to graze his shoulder blade, it appeared to glow blue in the moonlight, she shifted the blanket downwards to see further scaring on his back. Her mouth quivered, it was if she was about to cry, she was sad- that's for sure. Sad that she couldn't be comfortable, sad Jon wasn't happy, sad the pain and suffering he endured getting those scars. She felt herself moving forward, she curled herself towards his back, and tentatively kissed one of his scars. Her King stirred and she quickly reset her position, and pretended to be asleep, before realising it was just a hypnic jerk.


	12. Chapter 12

**Edit; first off, very depressed- HODOR HODOR HODOR. And second of all Sansa lied to Jon in 6x05, I know I've had her hold back truths in this story. But I'm concerned Sansa in the series will become the next big bad, with her lying and manipulation. DAMN YOU PETYR! You ruined her. I don't want Sansa to betray Jon.**

* * *

She found herself in darkness, a cold windy darkness that violated her senses, and filled her soul with fear. Sansa yelled loudly to see how far the darkness went, it echoed, then got lost. The place she was, was huge. She walked steadily with her hands in front of her, feeling out for obstructions, walls, doors, or people, anything. She didn't want to be alone. Then, a low reverberating growl rung to her left. She looked with a gasp. _Lady._ She saw her direwolf, she glowed with moonlight, but there was no moon. Lady was never the one to growl, she was the gentlest of all the direwolves. "Lady." She said sweetly, and the wolf hid its teeth and crept to her, its face became kind and sort her for affection. Sansa stroked it, it was just how she remembered, and the smell- she smelt like earth and occasionally of perfume, one she would apply herself."Thank the gods I have you." She combed her fur with her fingers. "I missed you."

" _My wife must be getting lonely_."

Her head snapped up, panic set in. That was Ramsay's voice echoing in the gloom. Her mind unfogged, the darkness began to recede. And she ran to the opposite side of the void to get away from the voice. If Ramsay was there, her wolf might protect her. But then she remembered. _Lady was dead._ And all of a sudden her direwolf faded away, but she could still smell her. _She was not gone_. She sniffed in hopes of tracing her path, finding her dead friend again. Sansa wandered to the outskirts of the place she was, the borders were dark, but she went into them regardless. _Lady?_ She had no voice, nothing came out- but a whine. That's when she realised she hadn't been walking...she had been trotting, and she didn't have two legs, she had four. _I'm a wolf?_ The good thing was that when she concentrated she could see through the darkness. There were silhouettes of trees, and nothing more.

Until she strained her ears, something was in distress, it was sniffling, as if stifling a sob. She trotted into the darkness and through the trees, until she spotted a dark shape on the floor in a clearing, and soon as she was within 10ft of it, she knew it was a boy. He was curled up, trying to keep warm, crying into the dirt. She approached his back with caution, but she had caught his scent further back. _Leather and Musk._ _Jon?_ It came out as a sympathetic whine. He lurched forward in surprise. _Oh lord._ He opened up from his curled up position to turn to her, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and she realised he was very young. _A very young Jon, too young for her to know him, she would have just been a toddler._

He looked at her, startled by her presence. "Lady?"

 _Oh yes she was still a wolf, and her own wolf._ But she couldn't understand how he knew of lady, her direwolf wasn't around when he was this age. Before she had time to comprehend everything else in this bizarre world. The boy hugged her, put his arms around her furry head and squeezed. "I died too." He mumbled into her fluff, and it chilled her to the paws. "You smell nice." They were disturbed by the howling and barking of hounds, and they found themselves fleeing together back through the trees. His little legs weren't fast, and she covered a lot of ground. "Wait for me."

So she slowed for him to catch up. _Come on, hurry!_

She awoke then, in her bed, cold, and to the sound of her maid bustling around her. Sansa rolled her head towards the girl that smouldered at her. "My Queen, this shall be an eventful day."

"What do you know?" Sansa narrowed her eyes.

The seven Hells would break loose that day. _And it wasn't anything to do with her_. Her husband's council meeting had been interrupted with a ruckus of men scrambling to the battlements. Someone was coming, and it wasn't winter.

Agnes had been with the Queen that morning making small talk while sewing. She asked her things that she couldn't have known unless she had been there the night before. _Maybe she was disguised as the hairbrush._ Soon as the mayhem had started, Agnes fell out of character and dismissed herself, whisking herself away to her King. _Well, that's where she figured the witch would go._ Sansa wasn't about to barricade herself in her quarters, but she did send her remaining handmaidens to buckle down in the master chambers. She encouraged them to sing mother's mercy and scurried down the main hall, the King wasn't there, he was where he should be, outside. The atmosphere was similar to the pre-seige of Winterfell, or battle of the bastards as the small folk called it. But Ramsay was long gone, who was coming? The Lannisters were weeks away. Could it be...the monsters?

The Queen made her way out, she encountered Sam on her travels- he was pacing. "Lord Tarly, why are you in here?"

"Your grace, am I to stop you going out there, the King's orders." Sam was furtive, avoiding her eye.

"Not even in the courtyard?"

"Nope."

"I'm not going to wait for a conclusion." Sansa fumed, flapping her skirts. "Are you going to force me back, Sam?!"

"Your grace-" He bumbled to the door, Sansa was already there pushing it open. "Please, I know I'm not a good warrior, but at least allow me to be a good guard. You're no good to him out there."

 _She wasn't good to him anywhere_. Sansa saw people assembling all kinds of apparatus, soldiers jogging past, and the yelling of commands. "It hasn't started already?"

Sam had her arm. "Please, your grace." She spied banners going up.

"Who is coming?"

Sam was biting into his lip. "I wouldn't worry, they'll probably just pass by us." Sansa crossed the threshold, dragging the man with her- he was still holding her sleeve. "Your grace, your grace!" He'd soon run out of breath and give up. She saw further commotion, a lot of panic, even the free folk had wandered into the castle grounds.

She reached a wooden stair to the battlements, and dashed up them as if her life depended on it, she stumbled on the last stair- and clambered onto the stone wall. Sansa spied red hair and knew that was the fierce wilding man. The Queen walked the full circuit to get to him, and as she got closer- her husband was revealed to her, he was shorter than this man so he had been obscured. But seeing him made her spirits lift, even if it was going to be short-lived. The wilding saw her first, he mumbled something and Jon's head snapped around to look at her, she gave him a sombre smile.

He came at her like thunder. "No no no." He said to scald her, as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "You can't put yourself up 'ere with me, get back down below." He pointed to the stairs quite abruptly, before softening. "Sweetheart you can't put yourself in harm's way." Her husband sort her sleeve, and for a second she wished her arm had been bare.

"I know, but I'd rather be out here." She saw something in the corner of her vision, and she turned to it. "What-" Jon had reached for her face, probably to say something endearing, and it hindered her from looking at what was coming.

"I need y-"

"-IT'S HERE!" Tormund squawked.

"Get down the stairs now!" Jon suddenly lurched, all the men yelled, all seemingly dropping in the same direction. Sansa found herself looking at something looming large, Jon pulled her down to the stones, she let out a yelp of surprise, even before she had time to recognise it. "Stay down!"

Sansa gaped as a large shadow flew over them, she felt droplets of water fall from it. _Impossible_."That's a dragon!" Her voice was surprisingly calmer than it should be, but her eyes prickled with tears. "Did the witch...?" Sansa scanned the area, including the ground outside the castle.

Jon was panting, getting up, he was confounded by her lack of terror. "I doubt she could conjure something like that." He steered her to the stairs. "Get down now, or I'll put you in chains."

"If I get in the castle, I'll get roasted- don't you remember Harrenhaal!" The Queen exclaimed over the battle cries of men. Jon got quite physical with her, he was on the verge of picking her up and throwing her down the stairs.

"Get down below now!"

"It's just scoping us!" Sansa shook him off. "Look!" She pointed at it ferociously, and Jon immediately followed her direction and studied the sky, the dragon did another dip turn and suddenly started flying east of them.

"It'll be back." He huffed, his breath still not entirely back. The rest of the men looked equally relieved. "It belongs to someone."

"Or no one, but sure...it'll be back." Sansa tried, she tugged at her sleeve that had hooked up to his sword. "There are dragons in some of my stories, when people aren't riding them, they hunt." A thread pulled. "Damn."

Jon simply snapped the thread. "If you knew that, then why would you stick around?" He said gruffly.

"I don't know, I just..." _It was like she didn't care_. "He didn't grab any of us." Sansa shrugged, her fictional stories were very vague, the authors probably didn't have a clue about dragons. "I'm not sure they'd attack a strong hold unless they had a rider. I don't see anybody about that could..." She noted Jon staring after the dragon. "-Keep one of those things." She then looked at its disappearing form, hard and unyielding, large but graceful. "That'll certainly scare the southerners."

Jon grimaced. "Well it certainly scares me." His lips spilt with a smile. "Maybe if it comes back I'll tame it."

"It was going east, out to sea maybe?" Tormund had joined the conversation.

"I did smell and taste sea water when it came over us." Sansa retorted, her coat felt damper than she thought- "Perhaps it came from that way, now it's going back."

The red bearded man was still marvelling the skies from which it came. "A magnificent beast..." His grin suddenly became suggestive. "Something I wouldn't mind getting inside of."

"Ssh." Jon hissed.

"I could have meant warging?"

"But you didn't mean that." The King caught his smile, it was contagious. "And you don't warg."

Sansa was still far away in the clouds to mention her ignorance on a word like 'warging'. "If I wasn't nervous of heights I'd gladly ride it." She heard a deep chuckle, _but from whom?_ She shot a look at both. "The worst thing that thing could do to me is burn me, nothing more."

She saw Jon's smile fade, he read into the comment. But Sansa believed he read it as stupidity, more than a willingness to die.

Sansa shook away the darkness that encroached her mind. "Maybe he was looking for a rider?" She wanted to chase away all his anxieties

"Nah... it was just being nosy." Her King's demeanour became of tower of strength. _Perhaps it was because the danger had come and gone, or was it her presence?_ "Keep the men up here to watch the skies, Tormund go make sure none of your folk have been taken."

"You'd better do the same with yours." The bearded man then took off down the stairs, he bound off like some kind of monkey from the far east, leaving the Queen watching her husband pensively.

"We were lucky, too lucky, maybe Melisandre is onto something..."

Jon listened to her. "Hm."

"She can sense King's blood, the _lord of light_ is her guide, perhaps the _fire_ dragon can sense your King's blood." Maybe they weren't siblings after all. But considering what Jon had done, he didn't seem to care. "Targaryen blood."

"Then why didn't he land?"

Sansa shrugged. "I don't know everything."

Her husband sure found that funny. "And I know nothing, apparently." She frowned at this.

Davos burst the bubble. "Agnes is missing." He had run up the stairs at a young man's pace. "Podrick has just informed me." He saw his king and Queen share a look. "I've asked Podrick to double check, he was with the women folk, and said he thought he'd seen her go into the crypts...and vanish."

The Queen finally went down below back onto the ground, to check for herself. Jon lingered with Davos. "Has my wife mentioned anything to you about Agnes?"

"Does she find her rude...?"

The King had noticed this himself. "She claims it's Melisandre." Jon had his hand wrapped around his sword handle, as if he was on the verge of drawing it."I believe her, but I want to know is, have you any evidence?"

Davos was gobsmacked, he shook his head. "I have nothing, but...she doesn't exactly follow procedure. I didn't think Melisandre would leave your service so easily."

Jon huffed and stormed past. "Well that settles it then, if she is going to use trickery to deceive us, she'll have to go." His advisor followed, trying to keep at Jon's pace.

"Your grace, though I'm not fond of the woman, after all... she did burn Princess Shireen..."

"-Are you building to a point that'll convince me to trust her?" He was tired of pussyfooting about.

"She did bring you back from the other side, your grace." _The was the only reason she still lived._

"The lord of light brought be back, and she is a messenger...she's told me all this. I thanked her, then I dismissed her, I can't trust a witch. She has so much influence, and sorcery makes me uncomfortable."

Davos ambled towards him with intent."You know what makes me uncomfortable?..."

Jon's ears perked up.

"White walkers." Davos said with a grave but enlightening voice. "I like to get behind power, if it puts something between me and _them_. "

"How about a dragon?" There was a childlike gleam in Jon's eye. "That's a good barrier, and there's fire power too."

"One thing at a time, ey?" His advisor concluded.

Jon gave several more orders around the castle grounds. Some squire had tipped up a barrel of arrows in the panic earlier and they had all scattered across the churned up mud. "Sort this out, lad." One broke under his foot. "That's a fucking waste." He rumbled before disappearing into the great hall. He saw ladies dithering by the tables, they curtsied upon his approach. His eyes roved to each of their faces, none were Agnes and most importantly, none were Sansa. His cape swished as he turned promptly to exit the hall and proceed to the crypts.

* * *

Sansa examined the crypts, and looked for any signs of damage to the statues. The feather had fallen from Lyanna's hand again, so she returned it. _There._

"You like being down here."

 _What the seven hells?_ Sansa jumped an inch, and turned towards the feminine voice. "You shouldn't come down here, this is strictly off limits to servants and small folk."

Melisandre cocked a brow at her. "I'm a _lady_ , my queen, and anyone should be allowed to pay their respects." She closed in on her, with a dark gleam in her eyes. "I sense a great power down here, it drew me down to the depths of these crypts."

"And there was me thinking you were hiding from the dragon." Sansa had really expected Melisandre to be performing some ritual, probably to bring all of the dead back. _How frightening,and yet... if only she knew where her mother and brother's bodies were._ But that was unthinkable. A tear leaked from her eye, and the witch swooped in to catch it.

"My child, don't cry for those that have passed, cry for the living that will suffer if we don't succeed with our mission." A hand touched her cheek, and Sansa jarred from it. "If only I could soothe you, take away your pain and suffering, your fear-"

"-Bad memories, can you wipe away bad memories?" Sansa scoffed. "You can't rewrite what is written, I would love to forget, but I'd be that ignorant little girl again if I did." She could feel a surge of anger in her bosom, one that made her sound like a retched brat. "You aren't here to help me, you are here for the King."

The red priestess dipped her head. _So she finally admits it._ "Do you want me to help the King?"

"It's up to the King." Though she very much wanted her opinion counted. "But he doesn't like deception."

"Then why has it taken you so long to report me?" The witch chimed. "If you wanted to stop me, stop me."

 _How was Sansa supposed to do that?- She couldn't pick a fight with a witch and expect to win._ "I did report you, he knows about you."

"After how long...?" Melisandre was angling for something. _What was she getting at?_ "You tell him everything?"

"Everything?" The queen was irked, _since when had she herself been deceitful? – This had to be a trick, transferring some guilt onto her_. Sansa composed herself, smiling with dignity."What else was there to tell?"

Melisandre smiled, a slow and calculating one. "About everything we discussed."

 _Seduction, Heirs, and- Her King had bled for her on the battlefield, why couldn't she bleed for him birthing a child?_

"-Why do you do that?" She heard the witch say suddenly.

"-What?"

The red woman tipped her head, analysing her with that exotic face of hers. "Your inner voice is very loud, it's deafening. You talk a lot in your head, you never stop- constantly thinking, it must hurt. Those festering anxieties."

This scared her, just as much as _Joffrey and Ramsay_ \- Someone who could read one's mind. Sansa pretended to be unfazed. "Everybody thinks, you can't expect me to speak every little thing on my mind!- It would be jibberish!"

"You should try doing it more." She crooned, toying with the girl's hair. "Just reflect on the times you did, and how rewarding it felt."

Sansa watched warily as the lady's finger coiled her hair. "If I speak my mind, I'll see my own head roll."

Melisandre gave a single nasal huff of a laugh. "You're sweet."

Sansa actually cussed at her, it was unrepeatable and she hated herself for it. "How's that for sweet?" She wasn't going to storm out of her own crypts, she would gladly wait it out until the witch left before she could desecrate sacred ground. "Did you find what you were looking for down here?" She folded her arms, knowing fully well she hadn't.

"There is strength here, I'll find it. But this is the best place for reflection, don't you think?" Melisandre gestured at the darkness, and she seemingly lit a candle with her finger, Sansa backed away a little. "Don't be afraid of the light, come feel it's warmth, be comforted by this..."

Sansa looked at the tombs, she couldn't see much comfort, but she could see herself coming down here more often to reflect and escape court. "It's a little cosy, in a creepy dank sort of way." _She had spend too much time with Tyrion._

"Now let me unburden you." Melisandre moved into her personal space. "Let me help you."

"Excuse me?" _That sounded like sorcery._ Sansa reversed into a tomb. "How's that?..." The witch kissed her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. _Away away away._ There was a surge of energy, it was awful and she didn't feed off it. It wanted to feed off her, but she felt her _will_ push at it. It tried to invade her, but it could not, nothing could penetrate her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, I bet you're wondering why I took longer than usual to post, I wanted to create a backlog of chapters before posting. I have wrote 18 chapters so far, and I like to be a few chapters ahead of myself in case I get delayed, or slow down to a crawl when writing.**

 **P.S If Hodor comes back as a white walker I will lose my cool.**

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The King trod down the stairs, it was dark- except for an ominous glow on the stone. He reached the bottom of the stairwell to find a single candle lit in front of Lyanna's statue, he felt odd looking at it. He inched closer to see a feather lying in the delicate hand of the stone woman, he fingered it so it was more centred.

"It's quiet up there."

He turned to his wife, surprised she had chosen to hide herself away in the depths. "Well it isn't when you're up there." He studied her stature, she was standing tall and proud but she kept in the shadows, very much like the statues. "I think you mean it's quiet down here."

"Of course." She gave him a small smile, she appeared rosy cheeked, something he believed was down to the excitement earlier.

"Find anything?" He remembered there was a reason he ventured down. "The red woman?" Sansa skirted the outer borders of the light, giving him a wide birth. "You don't have to be frightened, I didn't mean what I said earlier...I was never going to chain you up, it was an expression- you don't get my sense of humour." He tried, bringing his hand up in the hopes of coaxing her.

She sniggered, and he felt a flutter in his chest. "No, I do find it funny. You were always funny..." It was like they were dancing, he moved around the borders of light too, trying to remain directly opposite her so he could see her fully. "You like what you see?"

It was an odd thing to say, he cast is eye to the tombs and melted wax. "We're in the crypts, there's no-"He saw her pull her mane over her shoulder and play with it, stroking it, tantalisingly. It was enough to get any man excited. "I do, it's-" Finally answering her question. "An odd place to ask...but I'm glad you-"She parted her hair, and stroked it either side, her hands skimming the sides of her bosom, she cupped them briefly and then slid her hands down to her stomach. "-asked." At that moment his blood was not getting to his brain. "You have-"

"-A woman's body." She was scoffing him. Her hands moved to her clasp. "Would you like to see it?"

He had stopped circling, losing the ability to walk. "Huh?" He heard the click of the clasp and he drew uneven breath through an agape mouth. "Err yeah- "He suddenly closed his eyes and threw up a hand. "Wait wait, no...down here?" He said shaking his head, to get rid of the fog. "Sansa this is a crypt." He rumbled, determined to be coherent with that point, she pulled the skirt of her outer robe open, the corner of her lip curled as he reacted to a lithe smooth leg, it poked out from the petticoats to tease him. "Fuck." He breathed, on the verge of looking away. He was semi- hard. "Let's go um...do the." He cleared his throat. "Upstairs, right now." He finally crossed the light, his hand wanted to stroke the leg, but he fought against it and seized her arm. "I'm not doing this in a bloody crypt." He pulled her through the darkness, she kept stalling. "Just keep up the..." She had adjusted his hand to her breast. "Hell." He could feel eyes on him, and not just hers, he peered back down the crypt, trying to keep moving. Clearly spooked.

Sansa pleaded."Our chambers don't excite me, so many eyes and ears in the castle waiting for me to perform a duty. The dead don't watch." She dug her feet firm into the dirt and sand, and yanked him to a halt. "Give yourself to me now."And Jon dreaded looking back.

"Oh for fucks sake." He took a peek, her hand was still holding his to her breast. "We're in a crypt, Sansa!"His fingers circled the cup, _gauging its size and_ \- he retracted awkwardly. "Anyway it's warmer upstairs."

"And I'm warmer." She removed her neck shawl that tucked into her dress, and she was using her free hand to part the fabric that concealed her chest.

"I'm sure you..." Pale skin on collar bone, and a good cleavage shadow- _lord have mercy_. He sucked in his lips to wet them. "Bugger it-" Jon without warning shoved her against the stone, and planted his lips hard against hers, they were yielding, desperate to taste and consume, as was his. It was probably that he couldn't believe his luck and he tasted what he could, before she changed her mind. The only off putting thing was she smelt like death and candle wax- probably not something you want in your nostrils when you're about to fuck, but the warmth that came from her spurned him. The King wanted to chase the pulse down her neck, he moved down it, pressing hard enough to try and feel a pulse, anything, he was pressing firm enough his teeth might have perforated the skin.

"My poor King, you're starved." She purred. He coughed a little, he was choking on the lust. Her hands were between them bunching up her skirts. There wasn't enough light for him to see his target. But she was insisting it didn't matter."I'm ready, I'm right here. You bleed for me on the battlefield, and I'll bleed for you birthing a child, trace my heat."

He let out a groan of anguish. Jon's hand fumbled with his armour and leather, trying to get to his small clothes. It was hard to kiss and de-robe. It was as if he had forgotten how to undress. "Fuck sake!" He felt the cold reach his appendage, it wasn't as erect as he thought, it wasn't enough, he needed it to throb. That didn't make sense, he was hungry and willing, _why would his body betray him like this?_ Jon was trying to hold his wife to the wall and stimulate himself, without letting on he was. "Not now, not now!" _Maybe she would think he was taking the moral high ground?_

He was beside himself, he returned to the sanctuary of his wife's neck, trying to get the thing he needed to send him over the threshold. His body wasn't being compliant. _Maybe his body was still dead_? He growled, as his queen clung onto him, she was silent. And he feared he had let her down, which was ridiculous- King's don't fail at such a task, especially when he had been keen all other times. _Typical_. Jon felt he was able to perform when the other was not ready. It wasn't a good sign, it felt horrendous and immoral. That's when his face started to burn with rage, he felt like he wanted to punch the stone to dust. He withdrew immediately and her feet dropped to the floor. There was a gasp as they separated, it was like a great force had pushed them apart. He tucked himself away grudgingly. "It's probably the location." He tried, but Sansa was on him again, any other time it would have delighted him. "Give me a minute, love." He warned, her hands were invasive, tucking into all corners that not even squires would go. _Gods have no mercy, they like their cruel jokes._ He shut his eyes, willing the blood to his extremities.

"I am skilled, I could warm you up." She murmured into his ear, his hairs stood on end- he had dreamt of such things being said by her. But his core suddenly went cold.

"No." He heard himself and questioned it. "How can you be...?" He pulled back enough to look her in the eye. She looked unfazed, and more intriguingly, her eyes were violet blue in the dim light. _Sansa's were sky blue_. He jerked away, careful in case he was wrong in his assumptions. "You are not..."

"Don't be afraid."

This made Jon bark. "Oh gods, I knew this was too good to be true!" He dragged her into the light, with the intention of seeing her properly to make an assessment. "Are you, or are you not?"

"I can provide you with a son." She held onto the pretence that she was who she claimed, her face open and suggestive.

 _Sansa was never suggestive, she hadn't learned how to be, not yet anyway_. "You're not my wife." Still not sure, he remained there. "Where is my wife?" His voice was death.

It looked to put the fear of Rh'ollor into her. "I tried to coax her, but she was strong and stubborn." Jon got a little scared. "Fear not, I took all her anxieties away, she is resting, but she is learning."

"Don't speak in riddles, tell me!" The king snapped, and 'his wife' pointed into the darkness, back from where they had come from, the place he wanted to flee. He stormed down into the depths, snaring the still lit candle, he didn't have to walk far. He saw the heaped fabric of a dark green skirt, his sweet Sansa slumped up against a tomb, her face pale and eyes puffy. "Sansa." He speedily knelt and clutched her face, examining her for injuries and waiting for her to say something in her melodic voice. Jon was dismayed to find she was catatonic- but she was fixated on the path leading out, even the way she was sitting up suggested she hadn't lost complete control. If she was actually alert but frozen, she must have seen them... fumbling. _What a cruel thing to see._ He rose and looked towards were the witch was, she still hadn't changed, or budged. He trudged back to her, creating a whirlwind. "You."

"See she is fine."

 _She had a nerve._ "She doesn't look it." Glancing back. "Change back now, I forbid you to look like this." He said without raising his voice.

Melisandre must have read into it as calm and forgiving, for she did as she was told, Sansa's face dissolved into that of the priestess's. "Better, you like what you see?"

Jon then slapped her, but not at maximum strength. He didn't want to cause too much harm. He kept his face neutral, right up until afterwards, that's when his nostrils flared. "I'd never thought I'd hit a woman. Never in my life, never will I again, but I'll make an exception with your face."

While Melisandre rubbed the redness, he doubled back to lift up his wife and bring her somewhere warmer and safer. He had to rifle since the candle had gone out. "There there now, I got you." He soothed, and he smelt the real scent of his wife, it was indescribable.

As he walked past the wounded red woman- _well_ _she was certainly red now_ , she found her voice."You'll need me Jon Snow, I am your messenger, I am the lord of light's messenger, I'll always be there. The lord of light has great things planned for you." She persevered. "And I _was_ helping your wife, she can't do what is expected of her alone. She might never be able to do it!"

He felt like locking her in the crypts. "Don't deceive me again."

* * *

Davos and Jon walked Sansa into the room. _That's right, walked_. During the trip through the main hall, she convulsed as if returning to life. Jon could certainly relate to that. But she yelled. "Oh gods! Down...put me down!" Davos had appeared as if from behind a tapestry, hearing the commotion. "Put me down, your presence insults me!"Servants fled, some lingered, to be nosy.

"What's happened, your grace?" The advisor saw his King set Sansa back on the ground, and she immediately began thumping her husband's chest. Davos couldn't help but wince. "Now then, now then, your grace." He tried to seize those hands that flailed at his majesty who was putting up a decent fight too- but without causing any harm. It ended with the King holding one hand and the older gent holding the other.

"Sansa, you know there is sorcery at work, trying to drive us apart. I fell for it, alright, I didn't mean to do that. I thought it was you." The King explained, and just by eavesdropping, Davos assessed what had gone down.

"The witch has struck again?"

Jon appeared uncomfortable bringing up the issue. "Strange things happened in the crypt, I think Sansa might have saw everything."

"I did, it's what I imagine the seven hells feel like!"

Jon pursed his lips. "Right." Clearly he was offended. "I suppose you're referring to the lack of control you endured."

"And the rest!-"

"Can we please go somewhere more private, your graces?" Davos butt in, realising these we personal, morale squashing issues in a public place. "Might I remind you, Sansa, you struck a King in front of his subjects."

Sansa covered her mouth eyes wide, Jon half expected an apology, but instead. "-Oh right, that was a mistake, it should have been a kick in the genitals." She whispered harshly into their faces. Jon was deathly silent, brooding, Davos imagined his grace was envisioning some horrible things...to do this his wife. The advisor used the pause to steer them out of the hall and up to their chambers.

"It wasn't my fault." The older gent heard his King utter dangerously, as they got to the landing. It must have festered in his mind during the short trip.

"So it was mine?" Sansa retorted. Davos opened the chamber door for his queen. Jon disappeared in there after her.

"You might have fallen for that trick as well, if it were the other way around." Jon oozed, as if that would have made things better.

Sansa shook her head defiantly. "You don't know me."

"I bloody do." _They grew up together, how can she forget?_

She was enraged, so she barked in his face. "-If you did... you would know if it had been the other way around, I couldn't have touched you!" _Not in that way, and so soon, and in a sacred crypt_. Her arms folded as if to close the conversation.

"Because you would know the difference?" Jon gathered, but Sansa kept tight lipped."Oh, I see." Jon said with bitter defeat. _She wouldn't touch him edgeways._

She could see that sadness in his eyes, it bit at her like the northern wind. He looked twice as sorry, as before, sorry for what he had done, sorry he had heard her imply something so callous. She turned her back on him, only she could get away with something as dangerous as that, turning one's back on their King. Sansa didn't want to feel guilt, she hadn't done anything wrong. "What happens now?" She had said that out loud. _But she didn't want to know._

Silence.

Davos cleared his throat. "There was that council meeting that was interrupted?- Perhaps we could finish off there. It turns out we've just had this moment a raven warning us of a dragon." He suddenly laughed and it startled the young Queen. "It flew over the great houses of the north, it ate a few goats and buggered off, they wanted to know what to do?"

The Queen listened intently, her husband gave a sigh of resignation. "Well when I saw it, I didn't think anything could be done, I'd have trouble shooting such a..."

"Striking animal." Davos finished. "We have much to discuss, the day is young, your grace."

She heard Jon fidget then retreat grudgingly from the chamber, the clicking of his buckles and sword went with him and grew more distant. The door closed, and Sansa knew she was alone.

* * *

When the door opened again, it was Melisandre, as herself. Sansa jumped up from her lounger. "What are you doing here?!"

"I owe you an apology." Sansa scoffed before the witch had completed her explanation. "-For not telling you my plan. I'm very sorry, I must speak before I act. The lord of light doesn't encourage deceit." Melisandre was brave, but had a lot of cheek.

Though she had misgivings on the witch- _it_ _may in turn prove useful- such power, enough to win a war_."Right." Sansa dropped her embroidery on the lounger, straightening her gown. "I suppose I have no choice but to accept."

The witch blinked. "Really?" It was funny to see the witch looking suspicious.

 _She probably expected a slap from her too._ "You have a strange way of giving help." She wagged her finger at the exotic beauty. "Nevertheless." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I learnt a great deal from that horrendous..." She gestured at nothing, hoping for the red woman to fill in the blanks.

"Yes."

 _Was that all she could say?_ Sansa put on her interrogation face. "You wanted to give my husband a son." That wasn't a question, she had heard it this morning, the witch opened her mouth- but she ploughed on. "You wanted to deceive my husband into committing adultery." The witch tried again, Sansa cut her off. "You wanted me to see everything, and I did, the only thing you did manage to achieve this morning." Sansa wet her lips. "And I learnt those things, and more, I know what I look like to other people if I ever did become a seductress."

The witch finally got a word in. "Yes, you had a lot of influence, don't you see the power you have?"

Sansa slowly sat down. "It doesn't mean I liked it." She shook her head, at a snail's pace. "There's one thing to make a man believe he is going to be rewarded in exchange for something else; information, but there's another thing where the man is actually rewarded- it's called..." She contorted her face in thought. "Well that is...something I'm not comfortable with. Giving things so willingly isn't what a noblewoman is all about."

"Oh but you will at some point be inclined, my Queen, never question your honour. When two people love one another, they don't see you as a temptress every time you are more willing than he." The red witch sat down on the lounger next to her, without permission. "Love is blind, your grace."

Sansa grimaced at the poor etiquette, their skirts were touching, she shifted away. "I learnt my husband was insatiable when coaxed." _Maybe it wasn't a bad thing the witch coming between her and her husband._

"All men are. Too bad he was not up to the task..."

 _Melisandre talked a lot of crap sometimes_. "He looked very up to the task." Sansa supposed keenness was a compliment to herself, but the fact Melisandre had said the opposite was a little confusing- _and offensive._ "Why, what do you mean? He was with you right up until he wasn't." She didn't see any reluctance, except he didn't like the locale.

The witch had a secret smile. "You obviously didn't see everything from your angle."

Sansa rolled her eyes at the crudity. "I didn't need to."

"If you had, you would have seen a problem... a hindrance."

Sansa was flummoxed- she tried to read Melisandre's face. She looked smug. "He was overdressed...and armed?"

Melisandre showed teeth. "No sweet girl, a problem with the... instrument. It might be a short term blessing for you, but...my...it would destroy him."

The Queen finally understood. "Oh." She went as red as the witch's dress. "Oh..." Finally thinking of the dilemma. "No consummation, no heir." Despite her misgivings with beddings, she felt a little depressed. "I'm assuming it's because of the resurrection, he didn't come back whole." She thought out loud and Sansa finally knew she wasn't the only one with an issue."I highly doubt seduction is the key, if it's me that is the cause- why bother? If it's him, I can't fix that."

"I can fix you, your grace."The witch was confident over the Queen's anxiety.

"I doubt that, my lady." She felt hot hands seek hers. "Don't ...kiss me." She reared back, afraid this morning's events would repeat themselves.

Melisandre was persuasive."Another time perhaps. " This made the younger woman gulp. "But today, I will teach you how to touch." She rubbed her thumbs over the top the young Queen's hands. "See."

"That's not really a secret, I've done that." Sansa whispered, as to not embarrass her.

"But could you do it to Jon. You avoid affection with Jon because you think it'll go _somewhere_. You can be affectionate without the fear of sex."

Sansa's eyes bulged. _She had said it._ She had hit the nail right on the head. "Yes well...I won't need to fear that anymore, do I?" She was about to laugh, but it would be cruel. "Poor Jon, but I'm still angry."

"Anger is better than fear." The witch soothed, tucking a ginger strand behind the Queen's ear. "Use it."

"I don't want to feed off anger." Sansa rationalised. "I don't want to be a violent... lover." _Never say that word again._ "Sometimes I feel I want to punish everyone for my pain." Her hair was being stroked. "I can understand how Cersei feels. I feel bitter all of the time."

"Do you ever fantasize about an idealistic version of yourself?"

"No, not anymore." Sansa was honest. "I imagine how I was." _Stupid_. "Then I imagine what happened." She stared off into space. "And I'm still there." She remembered crying into wolf pelts, lying on bruises, cleaning away stickiness. Her lip trembled. "I'll never be clean."

The witch was staring in the same direction as her. "I see so many similarities in this room, it's just flipped around. I suppose the original room was further down."

Sansa didn't like the idea Melisandre could see it, she felt violated, again. "Don't look there." She warned, with a tinge of irritation.

"Perhaps if what I'm going to suggest doesn't work, then perhaps we need to go to that room."

"No!" Sansa stood, and the witch retracted herself. "I'll never set a toe in that room, I won't even look at the door." The witch was cruel.

"Then I think we should settle with the first options; We eliminate the similarities or we give them new meaning." Melisandre pointed to the wolf pelts, and Sansa looked at them. "Hide them, or burn them."

There was hesitation, then the Queen finally marched over to them, scooped them up and threw them into the fireplace, she used a poker to stoke the fire. "That's one for your lord." Sansa commented, stoking the fire quite violently, like she was stabbing someone.

"Now, see those candles-" The witch pointed to a load on the window sill. "Bring them, along with that tin pitcher."

Sansa did this straight away, but soon as everything had been laid out in front of the red women- she had doubts. "This isn't magic, is it?"

"No, this is a cleansing." Melisandre scooted to the fire place, she held the tin containing the candles over the fire. Sansa watched, hypnotized. The tin glowed, and she heard the wax bubble.

* * *

 **R &R Peace.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Don't worry guys and girls, the red witch is only in it because she likes to follow their camp, she is in no way part of the marriage. (She was very quiet during the council meeting on the show, but she didn't have anything to add) Anyways, on the story front- I'll explain Jon's issue in due time- but someone did hit the nail right on the head.**

 **I just want to play around with the set story, but it does change.**

* * *

"Not too much, just a little bit to start."

"Aaa.. .aaa...no no, it hurts, I can't!"

"The pain is temporary, and a little rewarding." Melisandre said in a matter of fact manner. "See, you can't feel it now, it cools quick, soon as it sets."

 _This bitch loves the pain._ The Queen could see this sated smile on her face whenever something burned near her. Sansa had chosen to do the task herself, she didn't want anybody going near _that part of her anatomy_. The wax was hot as it dripped onto her upper thigh. "I can't get any closer."

"It'll hurt and be soar, but mentally you'll feel cleansed. Enjoy the short burn." Melisandre said through the screen. "You can slaver it on, to get a bigger area."

Originally the witch has suggested to burn her legs with actual fire, _Sansa wasn't that stupid_. Sansa took a deep breath, she spread the wax on her thigh."Ssss." She fanned it. "Oh gods." She tried to brush off the wax, it crumbled, some clung. "It's clinging to things...oh gods." The wax had removed the fine hair at the top of her leg. "How the seven hells am I going to do the main bit?"

"I can help."

"You can't lift set wax without removing hair." Sansa remarked, _she didn't care if a witch had heeling hands, she would show no one her flower._ "Aa seven hells..."

"You can reheat to remove, but you will certainly burn your leg, and your..." Melisandre pulled up a stool against the partition, it moved, and Sansa froze all administrations."Don't put the wax on the mound, only underneath."

"Underneath? The flowerbud? That's sensitive." Sansa was about to drop the utensils. _Not worth it, not worth it._

Melisandre was insistent. "Yes, and you know why that is don't you? It's made for that purpose, and that man abused it. And that's a reason why you want it cleansed, don't want any traces of...Bolton." The witch dipped her voice, not liking the imagery it conjured up. Sansa had gone quiet , the name had soiled her mind. "Your grace...?"

Sansa grudgingly continued, and the red priestess heard the tapping of instruments. "Here we go...oh gods...aaa...no...sssss." Further fanning of herself, that had gone on a little thick, so it took longer to cool down, _the witch probably thought she had a low threshold to pain. True_. "Aaah!" It was high pitched, she had just tugged at her intimate area. "Aa...it's off, done." She splashed the area with rose water, further burning and she relaxed- the torture was over. The Queen let her skirts fall into place.

"Well done, your grace, am I allowed to look?"

Sansa grimaced. "I never show anyone that area." She came out from behind the screen, she saw Melisandre back away from the partition, pretending she hadn't been spying.

"You are positively glowing." She opened her arms elaborately, Sansa didn't believe Melisandre was capable of ass kissing, until now. "The world seems a whole lot brighter."

 _Enough._ "I think that's sweat, pain sweat." It still hurt, it was red, and had little pin prick dots from yanking out hair. "I feel like I have burned him away, that, and completely scalped my flower bud." The witch found that funny, she on the other hand, did not. "A little more mutilation can't hurt." _Never again._

"The redness will fade, your grace, and as for the hair... it'll grow back." She was so confident with every that fell out of her mouth. "Though some men like that area bare- though some men prefer cocks."

Sansa was irked by such brazenness. "Well, men are allowed their...choices, women aren't. I don't see a man would pay that much attention to..." She clasped her robe shut. "It just a...doorway." She shook the imagery from her brain.

The witch was smiling again. "Come sit with me on the lounger." Their skirts rustled as the approached the furnishing. Sansa winced as she sat down. "I'm glad you have taken some of my advice, you will be happy."

The young woman looked at the wine on the side. She didn't drink often, she felt like some now, but if a witch was present it would be smart not to. She smiled innocently, pretending to be in accordance with the sinful woman."Maybe someday I'll associate the act with something wonderful." _Nope._

"Heirs." Melisandre leant back on the lounger. "Love. And love from someone who returns it."

The Queen stared vacantly at the bed, she held a lengthy pause as if she was on the verge of disputing that, but she couldn't. "I love Jon... in the day, from a far." She was honest. "I knew him as a kind and broody gent growing up, my mother didn't like him. I suppose it sort of rubbed off on me, but not to that extend. Come to think of it he did strive to be like Robb, and he was, and everybody loved Robb. Jon was a blackwolf of the family, but it had a certain mystique, I suppose."A muscle in her face she hadn't used in a while began to flex. "He's strong, and he is..." She seemed to glance around the room as if searching for words, Sansa saw a wet stone and her mind went to swords. "Steely." She could actually picture him accurately to the hair. "And gruff." _Like a wolf._

"But. There is always a but." Melisandre squeezed in, staring at nothing as if pulling imagery out of the air.

"At night...he's there next to me." _Shirtless and wanton_. She felt movement in her bodice, it was either her breasts getting larger, or her nipples hardening. "I'm alright sleeping next to him, he's good company, but how long can people just sleep in a bed together, before things get unbearable and then everything falls apart." _What if he openly asked?_ Her body wilted, in the direction of the wine. _Be strong, don't be a drinker._

"The first step is always the hardest, just don't push and shove, or scowl at him." Melisandre tone was likened to a septa. "-Not unless he insults you. And no singing mother's mercy, or praying." She warned, and Sansa sighed in resignation. _That was her last resort._

"I don't really pray, not since the wedding."

Melisandre looked relieved, and continued. "When he enters a room, smile, don't just ignore or look in the way that you do." Melisandre sat up and did a despondent expression, Sansa figured that was an attempt at a impersonation of her. "Try smiling."

"I do smile." Sansa protested, trying to demonstrate.

"Openly smile, if you check your face." She tapped under the Queen's chin. "You'll realise you only think you're smiling, you aren't actually smiling, child."The witch reached for the wine, and sipped. "Another thing, when you drink wine, don't look into your cup, I've seen you do that. Look at him. Drink wine before bed." She offered some to her Queen, but she declined. "When you wish him goodnight, brush his shoulder or arm. If you can kiss him, by all means, do it."

Sansa just nodded along while wilting as if protesting, _some of this stuff was obvious, but a fat lot a good if her beloved Jon was impotent._

The witch suddenly clicked to gain some assertion."That undressing in front of him was good, that was unexpected, you should do more of that." Melisandre took a larger sip, doing the stare over her goblet. "See what I just did."

"Yes, my lady...I indeed saw it."Growing wary that they were losing light, and bed time was rapidly approaching. "Something tells me he won't speak to me tonight." Melisandre was still drinking, chugging it back like water. "I'm destroying everything because I can't let go, I'm in a lucky situation and I'm being such an ass."

"He won't stop loving you, regardless if you don't give him heirs, or being...an ass." Melisandre looked into her cup as she said this. _Not a good sign. "_ He never used to find that important. He used to have a fear of women because of pregnancy, he is very adaptable, he buckled down for a life of celibacy. He may do it again."Sansa doubted Melisandre would wish for that to happen. "Abstinence through fear of heirs."

The younger woman stared across at the door. "Huh..." She was toying with her sleeves. "I never thought of it that way...his fear I mean, I used to think his shyness was fear of intimacy, or rejection. Just before we got married I thought; this we had in common, and we'd be safe. I didn't realise he had changed."

Melisandre hot hand came to her face, stroking, Sansa eyed it with apprehension. "Perhaps celibacy is the life for you."

 _That's her game; the witch wanted to be the one to give him a son._ "Maybe you're right." She lied. _But good luck with Jon's problem._

* * *

Sansa had started a journal, she was writing her book ideas in it, taking up whole pages. She probably shouldn't write in bed, in case she got ink on the sheets. She dipped her quill in the well.

 _The beast had an insatiable appetite for flesh, it lurked in the darkness, it wasn't craving the blood that pumped so vigorously underneath the skin, but it seeked the warmth of..._

The Quill went in the ink well again and remained there. She reread it, and disliked it completely, she closed the book before it had a chance to dry. The door ominously creaked and Jon came in. _Stormed in._ She hadn't had time to react, and she realised she had forgotten to smile as he came in, but the speed in which he had came in, he was already sitting on the end of the bed facing away before she had time to put the book on the nightstand. He was removing his boots, and she heard the creak of his leather as he bent himself up. It didn't stop there, he was pulling off his tunic, and there was further creaking. The sound serenaded her. _Serenaded._

 _The sound of leather serenaded her to the point where she wished to wrap herself in it, and roll over and over 'till there was enough friction it would catch fire..._

It was worthy enough to go in the journal, she retrieved it, and moistened her quill to jot it down. She caught a glimpse of what she wrote down earlier- it wasn't that bad _._ She glimpsed Jon removing his small clothes, she looked long enough until she saw the top of his buttocks and she rapidly looked away, bashfully.

 _The beast had an insatiable appetite for flesh, it lurked in the darkness, it wasn't craving the blood that pumped so vigorously underneath the skin, but it seeked the warmth of... buttocks._

 _Alright, that's enough_. She snapped the book shut, it finally drew Jon's attention, not for long though. He barely acknowledged her, and he wandered into the other chamber, the door shut. And it occurred to her, he wasn't coming out again for some time, if ever. The Queen sunk under the covers, _maybe she could spread out a bit._ She stretched across the bed, she felt the warmness where he had sat moments before, and her hand remained there, until it grew cold. Her feet met resistance under the covers, and she realised his heavy leather was still on the bed. She pulled the mass of it towards her, when the pile was firmly in her hands, she felt obligated to smell it. _Oh lords._ It had such warmth, it was comforting. _Home_. She put it on her face as she lay back. _She had grown into an odd woman._

At some point she must have nodded off. Sansa woke with a start, her dream ended as she was running through the blackness, trying to trace the sound of little Jon yelling in anguish. She turned in bed she saw no husband, just a pile of leather that had fallen off her face during the night. She moved it further to his side, and took in the morning light that came through the window. She saw the other chamber's door was still closed. _He must have stayed in there all night._ "Good morning, your grace." She muttered despondently.

As she went to sit up, she became aware of moisture and stickiness under and between her legs. _Oh hells._ She leapt out of bed, and automatically pulled the sheets up and away from the carnage. She had bled heavily onto the sheets. Her first thought was the wax burning ritual last night, but then of course she would have bled sooner otherwise, so this was definitely her flower blooming. Well, she certainly wasn't going to destroy this mattress, so she pulled up all the bedding and dumped it onto the floor, she gathered it in a way so the mess was folded up inside. She chucked it behind her screen, and looked at the mattress. It wasn't fear that drove her to dumping oil onto the stain, but the fact it was a taboo to make it known when a woman was blooming, it made her conceive the idea that it was dirty. _Surely men detested it as a woman aged._ She used a buffing brush to scratch at it. Now it was a red brown mass that took up a quarter of the bed. She picked up the mattress and attempted to flip it, it flopped to the floor instead. Sansa was beginning to tire when she finally winched it back on to the frame, clean side facing up. _If she did that everyday, she would be as strong as her husband._

She heard movement in the other chamber, they must have heard her commotion. Her husband, opened the door and wandered back in, studying the blank bed. "Your handmaiden is noisy." He commented bitterly, not looking at her. _Still moody I see_. She watched him retrieve his uniform that was on the floor, as he stooped he seemed to sniff the air, she went as still as a rock.

For a brief moment he must have forgotten he'd fallen out with her -"Do you smell a metallic smell, like-." He actually looked at her curiously, straightening, before his eye line dropped. "Blood-Oh erm, that'll be it." He dropped his eyes to the leather in his hand.

Sansa glanced down, and noticed she was wearing a bloodied gown, she'd forgotten about that bit of evidence. She made a noise and dashed towards the screen. She stared at him through the slats. "Fetch me Agnes." _Why were his lips curling?_

"Sure." He went to the door, but hesitated. "Are you sure you want them prying?" His voice was low. "I could pass you your things, you don't have to be embarrassed about...your ailment, I'm not embarrassed."

She was gauging his expression, _how can he be content she was soiling her clothes? Did he assume this was her first blood?_ "I'm always embarrassed about it." She said, testing his reaction.

He approached the screen, and she moved her face from the slats, and put her back to it. In case he did look through."It's healthy, don't fret about it." The partition shook a little, and she flinched- she saw his fingers clutching the edge of the screen. "It explains a lot..."

"What do you mean?" She said innocently. _Don't comment on the smell._

"Your mood, and reluctance..."

 _Well that explains his change in mood._ Sansa felt like correcting him, she highly doubted her mood over the past week was hysteria. _Though, it would have been a great excuse, maybe that's what was wrong all along?_ "Of course." She finally _agreed_ , taking a secret and silent deep breath. "It weakens me."

"I bet." He had a dark chuckle. "You have looked pale."

 _That was through terror._ She listened out for retreating steps, they didn't come. "I'll rest in my chambers. Agnes will keep me company."

"Melisandre, you mean?" He was very bitter, Jon would probably not allow anyone near her again. "Why would you want her here after all she's done."

He must have thought Sansa was so weak, and a complete push-over."She brought you back, she might have summoned that dragon, and she helpe-."

Jon actually looked around the partition, her eyes nearly bulged. "Something...brought me back." He said with conviction.

She folded her skirt to hide the blood. "Of course."

"Sansa... enough, it's just blood." He spied the bed sheets in a heap next to her. "You really hate blooming, don't you?"

She nodded slowly, and he remained there staring at her sympathetically.

"Call for my maid." It came out meek and self-consciously, and he continued to probe her with those stormy eyes. "Please."

He gave a sigh of resignation, and left her. "I'll send someone else."

* * *

 **Who else was like- what the hell? - At the start. Yes, you know who you are Review**


	15. Chapter 15

**Melisandre isn't seducing Sansa, calm down. Rh'llor is a bit of a wild card for me, since a lot of its beliefs and aspirations are a mystery for me- I've only got what I've researched and seen in the show. I don't even know if it's a evil or misunderstood religion, but do I find Melisandre a chore to write about. Since I don't know if I'm writing for a villainess or a woman that's part of cult, this woman has been wrong before and she could be wrong all over again. Originally this story was simply about Sansa and Jon dealing with marriage- and I can imagine there are a few stories out there that have such a premise. The original draft didn't have any Davos or a Melisandre, I can imagine some stories that did would put them in an alternative universe. Let's not forget this story is very much in the show universe- and so made sense that Sansa and Jon would have gone to Winterfell with Davos and Melisandre. And of course game of thrones is thick with subplots, and my story is busy. Sorry to those whom hate the red witch- and want her to back off, I hate the red witch too (She killed my Shireen). The red witch as you might have noticed isn't in the first 3 chapters because she eats away into chapters like acid.**

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While Jon hit men with sticks, Sansa walked the castle inspecting the damaged rooms. When she heard high heeled boots clomping into her turf, she would hide. The witch would search for her, Sansa had become good at hiding, at least she thought she had, it was that, or the witch wasn't good at finding things. _She couldn't even find the prince that was promised_ _the first time around._ In the evenings the Queen didn't know where the red woman went. If Jon was any less than an honourable man, he probably would have taken the witch as a mistress, _to starve off boredom._ The Queen was certain she was boring, hence why Jon never bothered her in the day or sort her council. Sansa saw Melisandre crossing the courtyard outside her window, she was on her way to her, and Sansa couldn't be bothered to hide. _Damn._

 _But what to tell her._ Her husband had kept his distance for about 3 days, sleeping in the other room. He reassured her it was an old custom; thou shalt not lay with a woman who bleeds. _She thought it was something to do with the smell_. But he didn't stick to the regime long, Jon was soon back in their bed, his hands creeping to her side of the bed. Sansa had accidentally sat on his hand once and they both apologized simultaneously. Luckily she had her layers of thick cotton to catch her bleeds.

Her dreams during her flowering were saturated with the darkness, and young Jon. When the boy wasn't crying in the forest, he was trying to entice her wolf form into wrestling with him. "Come 'ere!" He would paw at the air and crawl on the floor in front of her growling, and she would watch his theatrics non-plus. On the third night of her dreaming this behaviour, she went for his foot playfully.

"Aha...you couldn't resist!" And the little boy began to play hit her around the head. She growled and grizzled as he motioned towards her paws, teasing her, she would mouth at his hands and arms."Come on guurl...come on! Let's be having yer!" He then yanked her tail, and she snapped at him, her canines caught his flesh. "Ow!" Jon snared his hand away. Sansa felt terrible and she began to lick it profusely in apology. His blood for some reason tasted hot, it burned like pitch, but there was a lemony after taste. She pounced on him and knocked him to the ground, he yelped, and she licked his face- he tasted like lemon cake, he began to laugh. "Bloody hell...enough enough!"

' _His blood for some reason tasted hot, it burned like pitch, but there was a lemony after taste. She pounced on him'_

She wrote avidly in her journal, her dreams would make a good read, she just needed to change the names. Sansa had considered ending the chapter on the boy being eaten by lady the wolf.

 _KNOCK KNOCK_

"My Queen, it is I, lady Melisandre." She was in the hall outside already poised to come in.

"What it is?" _The insufferable little-_ "Come in."

It was time for another 2 hour chat. _A talk that was counter-productive_. She was sure Melisandre was just milking her for information. _If she talked about Jon with her, she probably talked about her with Jon_. Melisandre liked the lounger, or the window seat, she believed it was so the witch could watch out for Jon, or Davos. Their conversations concerned the two, and the Queen got the impression, gradually and through squinting- Melisandre liked Davos more than she let on.

"Why don't you go and seduce him?" Sansa stared at the page she had been filling with notes, replaying the suggestion over and over again, the witch was quiet. "A joke, forgive me." The subject was of course changed by the older woman, but there was an odd vibe, that thickened the air and made Sansa cough. She pretended she was writing a colourful verse in her journal. "Keep talking... I am listening." _Scribble scribble scribble._

"You have bled heavily for about 6 days, or you sure something is not wrong, your grace?"

"I've always had a heavy flow." Sansa said cagily, shifting on her cotton. "Painful, and messy, I have resorted to cleaning 3 times a day." _Scribble scribble scribble._ "A natural man repellent." _She wasn't supposed to say that outloud._

The red priestess's lip curled. "Did it stop Ramsay?"

Sansa's quill cracked against the parchment, her face twitched to contain her venom."Yes." She got a new quill, and didn't pass a verdict on the witch's spite. "I've always had a heavy flow." She repeated.

"But normally by now you would have dried up."

Sansa didn't know what to say, _what was she getting at?_ She shrugged. "Maybe my body is purging itself, despite the flowering being dirty- I feel quite clean, cleaner than ever." Sansa was honest, she had nothing to hide, nothing to lie about. "Do you bleed, my lady, if you pardon me speaking?"

"No, your grace." Melisandre's lip twitched at the Queen's startled appearance. "My body stopped bleeding quite some time ago, the lord of light prefers me that way."

"But how will you carry?"

"I have managed just fine in the past."

Sansa gaped. "You have children?" Sansa never saw Melisandre as a mother, feeding from her breast then weaning, or disciplining them. _Well she could imagine the punishment._

"My...children." The witch began with a little cockiness. "Were born from ideas, motivations of the person I was serving, spawn of the lord of light." The witch was vague, which suggested all 'children' weren't her problem anymore, Sansa lowered her gaze nervously. "You look frightened by this, birthing is a ritual in the middle of a lifelong ceremony, children don't have to be of flesh and bone, one's that aren't...can never die, for they have never lived."

 _Yikes_. Sansa pricked her finger on her quill edge, but disguised it well. "But you said you could give my husband a son...or were you speaking of me...when you were...me." She had trouble making eye contact with the violet eyed woman, she would pick Sansa's brains if she did. "Can you birth...dragons?"

"I can give a gift from the lord of light, I doubt I could birth a dragon, your grace." Sansa was disappointed. "But you can provide the King with a prince of flesh and bone...and blood." Melisandre saw the blood on Sansa's finger and moved to sit next to the younger woman.

"Well, I'm losing enough of it, a bit more won't hurt." Sansa joked, spying Melisandre fascination with her finger. No sooner had the blood droplet formed, the witch had picked up the unruly digit and put it in her mouth. _Disgusting!_ "Melisandre!" She could hear the tone she had as a child, and she thought of when she used to reprimand her unruly sister.

The red woman retracted it from her mouth, so as not to miss a drop. "Forgive me, your grace, I don't like any to go to waste." _Terrible excuse, she supposed the woman was collecting her swabs aswell_! Melisandre then pressed the finger into her dress sleeve.

 _She would probably throw that bit of fabric in the fire to receive a vision._ "What can you get from tasting it?" _Essence of lemon...pitch?_

"Some with the sight, get visions."

"Do you..?"

"No."

Sansa was sure she was lying. "Then what was the point?" She said suspiciously, and the witch had the audacity to look certain and confidence with her next question.

"How did it make you feel, your grace?"

Sansa blinked, then glanced at her moist finger. "It hurt." She said with tinge of confusion.

"The prick?- No, I meant when I put it in my mouth, child."

 _So condescending, how can she allow this woman the time of day?_ She returned a shrewd look. "I was surprised, that was...against etiquette."

"But you weren't anxious about it...hmm...you're getting better." Melisandre was patting herself on the back. _Not literally, of course._

Sansa felt a surge, she wasn't sure what it was- most likely pride, but of course, she didn't understand why. "So I'm getting used to people doing things to me." _Maybe she was over her trauma?_ "And becoming subservient is the key to...being Queen?" _That didn't sound right, surely she should have some power over everyone._

Melisandre was touching her cheek, trying to get her attention. "When you're consort, you have to get used to being second place in everything."

" _You will act the fool to make them happy_." Sansa quoted Cersei, feeling even more depressed- _she was turning into her, she was even sharing a bed with her 'sibling.'_ She caught the witch shaking her head. "What?"

"I doubt he is your sibling, and you weren't that close. Get over it, once you do that, then you can take that first tiny step, of intimacy." Melisandre was handing her wine, again. "Then the final step depends on whether either of you can perform." Sansa held the wine in her mitts, uselessly. The witch started again-"Though I'm starting to think..."

"Yes..?"

Melisandre poured herself some wine. "When we burnt that wolf pelt the other day." She swished the wine in the goblet. "I think we gave a gift to the lord of light, he has obviously awarded you time...through your flowering, and of course Jon's problem-." The red woman grimaced with a click. "Impotence, it seems the lord of light might be telling us something." The witch looked smug, perhaps the whole impotence thing made her feel better because it was an excuse for her failed seduction.

Sansa read into that theory first, before considering her own."He doesn't want us to bed?- Or...maybe he doesn't want Jon being with anyone? Why would the lord of light effect us both with an affliction- you only need one affliction." Sansa set the wine down. _This was serious...for Jon._ "You should tell Jon this."

Melisandre laughed. "My Queen, telling a man something like that is a death sentence. We tell no one."


	16. Chapter 16

**This is my favourite chapter so far. Inform me of any spelling errors, they're hard to spot. I've just edited it- 10.31pm uk time.**

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Sansa had problems with her story. It was full of wolf dreams and no plot, so far it was a collection of drabbles. She started reading through books that weren't in her hope chest, ones she had to hunt for in Winterfell. She used the small library to do a few rewrites of her chapters, and to add substance to the monstrosity of her book. Podrick had delivered her bread and plenty of wine, and he sat with her for approximately an hour, he spoke about the panic in the villages over the dragon, it had come back, but this time had gone further north, in fact castle black had had a close encounter. "It's looking for someone, mark my words." Sansa jabbed with her quill.

"I will, your grace."

"Not literally, Pod." She smiled at the fool, before looking at her notes. "Why are you here?"

"I'm just checking your progress." He leant slightly, she had to draw the line when he started reading her stories.

"It's not finished, Pod, you would be taking it out of context."

"I understand this perfectly, your grace, it's very good, you have a talent-"

"Please stop...with the flattery." The quill went back into the ink well. "Squires don't sit with Queens, what happened to your latest mission?" _Why do people lurk around her?_

"I haven't seen Agnes in days."

Her face was blank, then she realised she had assigned him to Agnes, but Agnes no longer existed. She rolled her eyes behind her lids. "Right, I forgot." She sighed heavily, the fog lifting away from her head. "Nevermind ey?" _Ey...ey? -Queens don't say ey?- Where did that come fro- oh, Jon._ Jon was broad. "Nevermind. I'm sure Jon has had you busy." Podrick looked like he was about to neat her parchments, she very nearly growled. "Podrick." He halted. "Why are you really here?"

He looked at the desk, she could see him biting the inside of his mouth. "I serve you above all else..." She was about to retort to this, but he burst. "-So I must tell you, Jon sent me to watch you." Further cheek biting. "Sorry, he just wants to know what you get up to in the day when he isn't around, your grace."

"He's pipped you." She admired his honesty. "I'm surprised he didn't send the witch."

"He doesn't like her, your grace." Podrick cut right to the point. "She puts him off." Sansa supposed it was the lady's air and looks. "She scares him to the point he thinks you two are plotting together."

"That's a very serious allegation." She ventured, flicking the quill feather. "To take Winterfell, or the throne?"

"Well...he thinks you're dabbling in the dark arts...your grace." His voice got low, he had to lean over her work. "He thinks you've cast a spell to make him...change." He emphasized the last word as if it was a sensitive crude word. But from the tone she knew what this was about and she rolled her eyes. _She was surprised Jon had spoken to anybody about it, he was brave if he had- unless he simply didn't elaborate._

"Gods, he's blaming me for that."She exchanged a book from the shelf. "I suppose that's why the witch isn't in the castle?" Sansa felt she was on the verge of chuckling. "He has every right to be suspicious of the witch, not of me. I'm doing nothing to stop things...functioning." _He hasn't even tried lately, thank the gods._

Podrick looked away to check the door, and he cleared his throat. _What now?_ "Your grace, is your..." He fingered his collar. "Your...flower still? You know."

 _Squires were hilarious._ "How forward of you-!" She said with mock indifference.

"I'm sorry-"

"-No Pod, I was joking. It's alright..." She grimaced, embarrassed by her attempt at humour, and her next reply. "I'm finished, can't you see the colour has returned to my cheeks? No more blood for another month." She scribbled her words down on the parchment for a reference for later. "I might refer to the ailment as 'the bloodening'."

Podrick merely bobbed his head in courtesy of being told something so guarded by women. Then as if he had been prodded up the backside he lurched up." Oh gods...I've just remembered... I was supposed to deliver something." He comically made a dash for the door. "Damn... excuse me, my lady- err your grace."

Clearly the Queen was consumed with her story, she didn't see him bow or leave, let alone call her lady.

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Sansa spent all afternoon and evening in the library. No one came to her again _\- did no one read?_ She had made good work with the time she had, and the castle seemed to run itself without her intervention. _What was the point of the mistress of the household?_ The main door creaked open, and interrupted her flow. Davos edged in with caution. "Ah ha."

"What can I do for you, Ser?" She asked as politely as she could allow.

"Are you aware of the hour, your grace?" He said gently, sensing her tone. "It's just..."

Sansa refused to put down her quill. "It's probably late, I'm in the middle of something. Did you wish to use this room?"

Davos was amiable, her tone was no longer intimidating him. "I wasn't kicking you out, your grace. Neither do I wish to jump in your seat. But the King is getting restless."

The Queen hadn't listened properly. "Well tell him to eat, I can't be held responsible if he neglects himself." She rubbed her temples, she felt the pangs of tiredness.

"I said restless, not listless." The advisor retorted, motioning towards the desk. He put a hand on her parchment to obstruct her writing efforts. "By the looks of it, you are also getting restless." She tried to write between his digits. "Rest, your grace."

She stared crossly at the insolent hand. "I am the Queen." _As if that did anything!_

"Yes you are."

It held a lot of meaning, and he wasn't being patronizing at that moment. She had been drunk on stories...and power, now she was realising her neglect. _Yes, I am the Queen, I need to sleep, in order to...Queen, and write more stories._ "Pardon me, Davos, I got a little carried away. I do enjoy writing... just as much as lemon cakes, it's just very frustrating when you realise your story has no structure or purpose, other than to escape." She began to stack up her parchments into a tidy pile. "I'll call it a night."

"Good idea, my Queen." Davos watched her, bemused. "Is that what you've been doing all day, your grace, escaping?" He saw her nod in a very lethargic manner, and he cast his eye to two empty drink vessels."Did you empty these two pitchers of wine all by yourself?"

Sansa screwed her eyes up. "Oh, I must have done." She rose from her seat. "It was over the course of the day, and I did eat, I didn't drink on an empty stomach, Davos." She flounced towards the door that was being held open for her. _He was really trying to get rid of her._

A smile split the old gent's face. "Good good, off you go then, pet." And she did.

It took Sansa approximately 5 minutes to walk back to her chambers, and in that time she was rather pleased with herself. Confidant in fact, until she heard the sound of a wet stone on a blade- and in the bedchambers. She opened the door to the room promptly as if to scold, her husband was sitting up in bed, and he was indeed sharpening his sword. "Must you do that here?" _And shirtless?_ Sansa realised she needed to smile, _really smile_ , she worked her muscles and achieved a warm smile.

Jon cocked his head and regarded her pleasantly with a smile of his own."I was wondering where you'd got to?" He stopped work, his gaze floating back and forth between his work and her. "Wife."

She turned her back on him to slowly close the door, so it wouldn't slam and wake the castle. She couldn't take her eyes off the bolt as he spoke. "I was writing." She said, but didn't bolt the door, _why would she need to?_ "It's coming along."

"Yes, Podrick told me."

It was a simple response, but it confirmed they were indeed in cahoots. Her husband must know everything. _Everything._ She bit the inside of her cheek. "I got a lot done today."

"You could have done all that up here." He toyed with the sword, the light reflected off it and skimmed across her gown, he watched it fascinated. "I was up 'ere earlier than usual, the room was cold." Jon sheathed his sword, and secreted it under the bed, much to Sansa's relief.

The Queen meandered across the room to get to her faithful divider, she couldn't sleep in her day clothes."I thought you had the lord of fire at your side?- Why would you be cold?" She scoffed, removing her gown, _perhaps he should wear a shirt?_ She heard him rustling about, she had to check through the slats to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on her. He was fiddling with the underside of the bed. "I needed the library for some inspiration, I can't be kept cooped up in here." She turned away so she could arrange her night attire.

"No, I suppose not." He became still. "You could have sat out in the yard, and watched me train."

She paused as she slipped into her nightgown. "I've seen you train, I like watching you train."

"Well then."

"You're good, your standard never changes or ceases to amaze me." She pulled her dress into place, and pulled her hair through and over her shoulders. "You wouldn't spend an afternoon watching me sew."

"I have." Jon mumbled, and she scoffed again, then listened to the beautiful stillness that was Jon- she imagined his face brooding. "And I would do it again." That made her tingle.

"No you have not, and will not." Sansa walked around the partition and froze, her eyeballs nearly popped out of her head. _That was big._ "Oh my." _Sansa had seen one bigger, but this was bigger than the average one she was used to._ "What's this for?"

Jon held a plate with an oversized lemon cake on it, he was lounging, so he had to rest it on his stomach. "No reason, I just had one made..." He was smiling with his eyes, and only his eyes.

"I hope you're sharing, your grace." She pounced on the bed, nearly boinging him off. He moved about an inch off the bed, and the cake did a slight jump on the plate too, but he saved it.

"Careful!" He exclaimed amiably. "Gods woman, if this had gone all over me would you have still eaten it?!"

Sansa laughed. "It's lemon cake- it shouldn't go to waste, your grace."

The jest had been a little lost on her, for as soon as she had replied, he broke a handful off and dumped it onto his stomach.

 _Oh_. The connotations were now clear and certain. She felt air get lodged in her throat as he probed her with those stormy eyes, daring her. Sansa could do nothing but gulp. She couldn't flee from something she had inadvertently accepted to do. It was the principle of honour she was doing this. _At_ _least that's what she'll tell herself in the aftermath_. And she had to school her features, so she didn't look petrified.

"Your grace." She bobbed her head like a squire _._

His poor scars were littered across his skin, that aided her next decision. She swept her hair over one side to manage it, the action gave her husband an irregular breath. _Or perhaps he felt a chill?_ She lowered herself, bending over him, bringing her face close to his skin. _Cake, she was just eating lemon cake, they were her favourite._ She didn't look at him, as she nibbled a piece, it broke up immediately, distributing over a wider area. His stomach didn't move, not even to breathe. Her mouth would have to skim that lean abdomen. The Queen ate the now warm bits of cake, the icing watered and spread over unyielding muscle. Sansa latched her lips onto the skin and drew them together bringing up the crumbs, caressing the scars, kissing evidence of his battles. She was pretty sure her tongue automatically came out to taste the lemon icing, it flicked across the skin. His flesh was salty, but the cake sweet. _Oh heavens_. The Queen felt and saw the muscles clench around his stomach. She heard him breathe after an extended amount of time, deep and low. _Oh my_. It sent a pang into her core, she felt herself moisten in her secret area, she feared she had bled again. _Her blood!_ And the queen slowly rose from her stoop, wiping the remnants of sugar grains from her lips. "Forgive me, your grace." Finally catching a glimpse of his face, he looked like he was high on milk of the poppy, with eyes pink and vacant, and a mouth wet and agape.

"Why- what- ey?" He said in a daze, blinking promptly to try and focus. She was in the midst of crawling off the bed, his hand skimmed her retreating calf. "No don't...you were just getting..." His hand tried to catch her foot, and it slipped through his grasp. She was up and off behind the screen. "What are you doing, love?" He was almost pleading.

Sansa checked herself with a handkerchief, there was nothing to worry about, not a single drop of blood had spotted the cloth. _This was good news_... Her divider rapidly folded up against the wall behind her, she gasped in surprise and quickly adjusted herself. Jon was there in its place, looking very heated. _Maybe it wasn't good news._

"I hate this bloody thing." He rasped, referring to the divider. "We might as well have separate rooms if we're going to isolate ourselves."

She discarded her handkerchief. "I can't believe you just did that." She stormed past him, and returned to the bed, he seemed to think everything would resume, the plate of cake returning to his chest, leaving his stomach free for...but she crawled into the sheets. "When I go behind the screen, it means don't follow me, I have my space, you have yours."

"Yes- I granted you access into my space." The King said as if to derail her argument. "Come on- do it again, if you don't mind, love." His hand was sneaking around her back, stroking. His hand slipped up to her hair, and he applied pressure to the back of her head, urging her...down "Go on."

 _No! He folded her partition._ "Imagine if I just decided to disarm you while you were training somebody, you wouldn't like that, would you?" Gently pulling his hand from her head. "Would you?"

"You don't know what I like." He said, trying to ply her with more cake, he was nudging a slice against her chin, it was crumbling into the bed.

She looked shrewdly at his efforts. "Stop that."

He tickled the corner of the slice against her lip, staring at it intently. "If you did disarm me..." He began huskily. "I would tackle you to floor." When he had failed to feed her, he bit into the lemon cake himself. "How would you like a tackling?"

His tone didn't have a single air of threat to it, he was genuinely asking. She turned on her side to him, a little fazed by the brazenness. "You're getting me mixed up with Arya." Soon as she said it, she pictured it; Jon and Arya tackling in the mud, laughing and thrashing. A pang of jealousy hit her hard, but the fact she was jealous was a complete betrayal of her mind. _She never got jealous_. "Once we find her..." _If we find her._ Tears prickled her eyes, and Jon clanked the plate down on the side and was there with his tentative presence, brushing his finger near her eyes.

"Now now...she's somewhere about, running with the wolves, she'll have an active position in court when she gets back." His voice was soothing, and never had she heard it with this level of intimacy, _apart from when he straddled her._

But Sansa still had the thought of Arya being here instead of her. _Jon and Arya_. But it was very odd imagining them in bed. "Considering how relaxed everyone is about us, I suppose they wouldn't mind you taking Arya as a mistress." Her sister would be nearly a woman now, her flower could be blooming at this very moment. _Hope she asks for advice from her_. She focused back on her husband, his lips were a thin line.

"I can't believe you just said that." He fell on his back. "Eck. " He winced. "Do you actually picture these things?"

"I do." Sansa pulled the covers up to her chin. "She'd be a woman, but she'd be Arya..."

"Eck." Jon shuffled close to her, his curls tickling her ear as he nuzzled her shoulder and neck, she remained perfectly still. "It wouldn't work, it would be like shagging ghost."

She gurned at him. "Errck." Then blew into his hair to get the tickle from her ear. "Oh gods- please, save such vulgarity for the tavern." He reacted to the puff of air and leered at her through the ruffled mess. "You are wolf like... you would be quite compatible." She added favourably.

"Are you talking about ghost or Arya?"

Sansa was musing Jon, it was so easy now. "Whatever pleases you."

"Please me." That talk on personal space seemed to have been forgotten by Jon, he butt heads with her as if seeking her affection. "Ruin me."

He was getting all doe-eyed with her, and she chose not to incite it. "Enough, I'm finished with such talk. Bedtime." Just after she had settled against her pillow, Jon suddenly barked, and she shot him an incredulous look. "Jon, behave yourself." Saying that seemed to get him all excited, he had fire in his eyes, his hands shot towards her under the covers, fingers fanning across her nighty. "Jon!" He snared her into a rough embrace, it expelled the air from her lungs in an exclamation of 'huhf.'

"Let me have this." He purred, his hands fawning over her back and sides. They were relentless in mapping out her curves, his hands cupped her buttocks and squeezed. She gasped at such misconduct, and then he paused- their eyes locked.

"What's...?" She then felt it, the warm sword of flesh and blood- fully functioning, and jabbing into her stomach through her nightie. There appeared to be a suspension of disbelief, he was staring with conviction into her soul. Jon's eyes suddenly shut, and he murmured feverishly. _Oh lords, he was thanking the gods._ "Jon..." She didn't know how to reason with _an armed man._

His eyes burst open and he thrusted at her, colliding his cock with her abdomen. _Was he trying to breach her through her nightie...via the belly button?_ Noise burst from her in astonishment, and he answered with guttural noises. "You've had your blood- it's nigh!"

Her hands were trapped between their bodies. "Oh my gods." Sansa murmured, turning her head away as she thought he would plunder her mouth if she did try to tell him off. The Queen had a face full of hair as he aggressively kissed her neck. _Perhaps a loud scream in his ear would deter him?_ But she didn't want to humiliate him- the whole castle would hear. _That fact that she cared about her attacker- spoke wonders._ She noted after sometime he wasn't heading for the major areas, he avoided her breasts and...ahem. The realisation gave her a strange sense of euphoria, _he could have raped her by now, and he hadn't_ , it made her whole body go slack, almost as if she was surrendering to it. _Gods._

"Sansa..." Her King spoke into her neck. "Sweetheart." It sounded like he was talking down a well.

She wondered if this was her body falling back into its state in her final days with Ramsay, when she used to switch off and go slack? Or was this complete and utter trust? Sansa had been rolled onto her back, she could see the canopy, and the top part of Jon's face staring down at her. She didn't recall seeing much of the canopy when Ramsay was...using her. Sansa would mostly close her eyes, or shove her face into wolf pelts. She started replaying the pain of her first time over and over again, but the pain remained, every time that followed. The room became so dark, she felt she had been blinded, no sound bounced off any of the walls either, the sound just passed through the trees.

"Sansa?" That was Jon, but not little Jon, she couldn't see him, nor did she recall when she had stopped seeing him. _Wasn't she just in bed?_ "Hey..." Jon said this time.

She then heard her wolf howling in the trees, and the sound of hounds in hot pursuit. Lady yelped and screeched in distress and then there was silence. "No Lady!" She cried into the darkness. "She was good!"

Suddenly Ramsay's face leered at her through the darkness, _oh my god is he alive, or had she died in her bed and had gone to hell with him!_ He was smiling with his jagged teeth. "Does this bitch howl when I stab her?" She suddenly felt herself being breached violently- she yelped, and tears prickled her eyes. _She was in hell_. Ramsay's face faded into the depths.

"Sansa?" _Well that wasn't Ramsay._

"Where'd she go then?" _Neither was that Ramsay, or Jon._

"Sansa?" _That was Jon._ There was then an annoying clicking noise really close."Look...see, nothing."

Those voices rung in the dark, it sounded like they were all yelling down a well for her. _Had someone lost her?_ She hadn't moved, she was just in the darkness. _Shhcuctk –_ Someone was sharpening a blade, a distance away. She then heard a low growl, but it was loud enough it could have been right next to her.

"You were fucking stupid." _Who the hell was that?- and to whom?_

"How was I to know?!"

"I bet it was her." _Oh of course, that's Davos's voice, but why was he standing in the dark with her husband?_

"What's wrong?" _The witch was lurking in the dark too?_ "She'll be back a lot better than when she went."

"You say that a lot and then things get worse. Now get out!"

Sansa listened to the argument, and then a spark ignited in front of her, a wick of a candle burnt bright in her vision.

"Come out of the darkness, your grace, it is full of terrors."

The candle wick moved away from her, leaving her in the cramped darkness- she ended up racing towards it, but she had no feet. Sansa then had a sudden sick falling sensation, followed by convulsing- the room suddenly appeared as if every light had been lit. She stared up at Jon, Melisandre and Davos- looking down at her with concern. She could feel sweat cooling her body.

"Sansa." Her husband sat on the bed next to her when she acknowledged them all, he seemed to scoop her to sit her up on him. "The colours coming back to your cheeks." He stroked at them with his callous hands.

She had been right, she was still lying on the bed, but she didn't recall Melisandre and Davos coming in during Jon's escapades.

"What happened?" Sansa used the posed question to move off of her husband. _She knew what happened._ She put her legs over the side of the bed.

The witch opened her mouth to speak, but Davos's voice was heard. "Your red friend won't do as she's told, and Podrick betrayed your confidence, and the King decided to get amorous." That was very cocksure of him. _Only he could get away with that._ The King shot daggers at him, but Davos remained steady and as cocksure as ever."I thought you wanted to just have cake and talk, bond over tiffin, but nooo! Soon as you find out a woman's cycle has ended...you think; now I can dip my wick!"

 _Holy hells, what had she come back to?_

"I didn't know she was going to go all...funny, I didn't think everything was gonna go to the dogs when my wife and I decided to cuddle in bed!" Jon expressed adamantly, his broadness ringing true.

 _He certainly didn't lie, he didn't know when a cuddle ends and fornication begins._ "Well, you do have selective hearing." Sansa commented, yawning with the stress of her ordeal. _Like a dog._ She focused on the witch, _you._ Melisandre broke eye contact with her. The Queen levelled with her husband. "Did you dip your wick?"

Jon made a huge sigh sound dirty. _She expected a yes with a reaction like that._ She believed it was because a lady of her bearing had said something so coarse. "No Sansa, I didn't, I didn't get that far. I don't think I could have."

Melisandre interrupted. "-Did _the problem_ rear its ugly head?"

He looked venomously at her. "No it didn't, it works fine, thanks." _Bitch._

Sansa couldn't tell if he spoke the truth, or if he was trying to spite the witch. But if she heard him say 'I don't think I could have', he really meant he couldn't out of guilt or pity, or the fact Sansa wasn't present and engaged in the act. _Though men never really needed consent_. But all she knew was she felt something breach her, but it could have been an old memory replaying itself.

"Where did you go?" Jon asked, trying get back to the initial journey she went on.

"Into darkness." Sansa wasn't being vague, it was just that. But withholding information made her itch, so she scratched.

"What was in the darkness?" The witch stooped as if she was talking to a child, and Davos elbowed her out of the way.

"-I know where she went, she tried to escape." Davos made that sound like she had committed treason. And Jon appeared on the verge of agreeing with him. "That's one way to do it."

"Why Sansa?" Jon was hoarse as if saddened by the revelation Sansa could flee. It was hardly fleeing, she didn't know she had been, and she had escaped from one place only to go somewhere much worse. "Tell me."

"Seven hells, I don't know what I'm doing!" Sansa stood up from the bed and broke their committee they had formed around her. She sort her outer gown, she went to the chair that was normally behind her screen, but the screen had been folded up. The Queen pulled it on unguarded and unaided, fighting with the tie cord."You make me sound like I have betrayed you all, I am not married to all 3 of you, none of you need to know where I am, what I'm doing, and when I flower!" Her cheeks tinged. "I went into darkness, I've been there before, and I'll visit the darkness when I like!" _As long as Ramsay isn't there._

Jon and Davos exchanged glances. _Why do men do that?_ At least Melisandre was taking it in. "My Queen, I bid you goodnight, please sleep well, may I suggest you look into the fire when you are on the verge of hysteria." _Oh bitch, let's make you a pyre._ The witched scowled as she left, she had tuned into that thought. The witch gave Davos a funny hand signal- and he suddenly followed her. _Since when did he obey her?_ Just before the door clicked shut, Davos spied through the gap as if waiting for drama. She then remembered she was alone...

"Are you better now?"

 _Okay, she wasn't alone._ Her head turned sharply to her husband. "Is it a full moon tonight?" He looked pensive, as if working out if it was a full moon tonight. "Forget it, you obviously haven't read my story."

"I would like to."

And there was that tingle of affection.


	17. Chapter 17

Sansa and Jon were walking the battlements on a very fine day, brisk, but the sun still shone. But they weren't sight seeing, this was the beginning of a serious talk. The day had started with a lot of apprehension, caused through the night before. This had been the turning point of their _blossoming_ relationship- she believed, he now knew something was amiss. _Trauma_. Jon had decided to lay himself down on the lounger that night, staring wistfully at his wife. She had watched him settle, guilt on her conscience. _Why guilt, you silly girl?_ "Comfortable?" She tried not to sound mocking.

Jon smiled sheepishly. "Are you?"

 _Why wasn't he mad?_

In the morning she had woken to an empty chamber, and she set about repeating her routine of the day before, with a few exclusions. Soon as she had toured the castle with her servants to organize a thorough clean up of the ruins, she felt an extra presence. She spied her husband looking as grand and as fierce as he had when leaving castle black. _Their first official trip together, and she had made him a coat_. Today he wore that coat, and coincidently she wore her green wolf dress.

He always wore coats that made him look 3 times his size, this morning was no exception. Sansa noted him gripping his sword hilt as he stood watching her giving instructions. _Had he come to cut her down?_ When the servants left to do her bidding, she made an approach. "Your grace."She dipped like a good servant, testing his temperament.

"It's Jon."

"Jon."She breathed, sensing an air of annoyance. "I didn't expect to see you in this part of the castle, in the day." She had probably given him the impression he was not welcome, that was far from it.

"I normally busy myself with warmongering and training. I thought I'd spend my day with you." He was gauging her reaction to this, she gave nothing away today. "I never see you in the day, I wish to change that."It was supposed to be a warm gesture, but he was gruff and still held his sword like he was about to incite his men into battle. She looked at his feet, he stood like he was training. "Come walk with me." He walked past her, that was his way of inviting her to follow.

The Queen dithered behind him, as he walked the hall. "I was hoping to finish this wing of the castle by the end of the month. Get everything back to its former glory." She called, and she saw him nod. Sansa picked up her skirts so she could increase her pace, so she could be level with him. "With your permission of course, your grace."

They had got outside, and he stopped under the falling snow, squinting up at it. "So you have gone back to talking to me like a servant?" His voice cutting into the skin, she blinked profusely- the anxiety and the cold made her eyes dry. "Why does your temperament change so frequently?- You have Winterfell, we got it back, cheer up, love." It held traces of patronizing, as if he believed it was all she cared about- and that nothing else mattered, not even the rising army of the dead could move her. "Do I have to grant permission for you to speak? Sansa."

"What do you want me to say?"

He sighed long and hard, melting all snow that came within a foot of him. "I want to know everything, your motivations...aspirations...normal stuff." He encouraged her to walk. Normally walking loosened tongues. "We can converse like people, can't we?" The battlements were long and bleak, plenty of time to tell all.

"I'm starting off small, I'm fixing our home."

The King liked the fact she said 'our'. "I noticed you were putting sigils on all the bedding, I like that, I'm assuming you want every room uniformed."

"That's the plan. Along with the wolf pelts and the banners, I want people to remember where they are...and who it belongs to." Sansa shook the snow off her skirt.

"How about some tapestries with dragons on them?- Can you sew dragons?"

 _Can she sew dragons!_ _Sansa can sew everything!_ Sansa realized her ignorance, Jon's possible heritage counted too. "Oh of course, that would make a little more sense." She smiled at the idea of her new commission. "I can sew anything, dragons should be no problem...you wouldn't be able to ride it mind you." She caught him smirk and it delighted her to no end. The Queen remembered what Podrick had told her, and now was the time to discuss it. "I heard castle black saw a dragon?"

He did a quick sweep to look at her, perhaps to see if she was panicked."Aye, they did." Their walk was at a snail's pace. "I advised them not to engage with it, or aim anything at it, I assumed it only attacked if they saw an obvious threat."

"-Or felt peckish..." The grin they shared was quite sombre, they were acknowledging the danger lurking. It was enough to strain their so-called marriage. "Maybe if this 'army of the dead' threaten it, it could wipe them all out."

"That would be something, wouldn't it?- Make my job a lot easier." The snow had settled on his pelts, and Sansa couldn't help but memorize it. File it away in her brain for a rainy day. Jon looked like her father, and she was sure she looked like her mother. It was as if 'something' wanted history to repeat itself. He caught her serene facial expression. "It's nice to see that genuine smile, I'd put it on a banner for the whole of Westeros to see."Jon crooned at her. "Sew that on a banner."

Her cheeks tinged, it prolonged the smile. "Thank you." That's all she could say, normally compliments like this warrant something in return- but it had turned her into a puddle of girlishness. "It's a bit of a contrast to your brooding, not that I mind your brooding." Though she couldn't see it at that moment, nor did she know what to say to him. "My, you really have stepped up your game when it comes to talking to girls."

"Now I must learn to woo." Even though he had said it as an afterthought, his eyes would creep to her then back to where they were walking. Sansa knew he was talking about her. O _bviously_ , _he wouldn't learn to woo in order to apply it to other women._ _Subtle._

She kept her path in her sights, she was sure her cheeks were still red. "Perhaps you should read some of my old books? Good old fashioned chivalry." She doubted he would immerse himself in a fairytale.

"I would rather read yours...when will your story be ready to read?" Jon came to a halt at the epicentre of the stairwells, and turned to her, he wanted her to see the sincerity in his face. "I'd like to be the first...if you don't mind?"

"Soon, your grace." Nervous, but happy with his interest. "I'm quite attached to it, it feels like soon as I release it, it'll no longer be mine."

Jon extended a gloved hand, and she took it wondering what he was going to do. "Share your gift with the world." He gestured for them to sit on the top stair, he lowered her onto the step, and he creaked as he joined her. A comfortable silence consumed them, as she watched the bustle down below. It was only broken by the sound of flexing gloves, it drew Sansa's attention and she looked at her husband, becoming increasingly aware of the strength in those hands.

"Sansa." He rumbled. "Do you feel comforted by this darkness?"

They were going back to the night before."Sometimes, it's best to be nowhere than somewhere..." She heard it, it was vague, but how can she describe a dark dank uncomfortable place that holds her every night, and brief moments in the day. A place she keeps visiting, despite it being so horrible. "I used to escape there, then it got saturated by bad things."

"Like what?"

 _Oh hell._ "Memories." She said it with a shrug, hopefully her vagueness would put him off asking. "Nothing much."

Jon was staring, and it made her face hot, and mouth dry, and he said as clear as day- "Ramsay."

It was skirting close to talking about it. _You might have to_. Sansa had lost the capability to blink, it could have loosened her tears. It sounded like he had posed a question, but he had stated it as if he knew. She declined confirming his hunch. "Hm."

"I doubt Ramsay is paying you a visit through this darkness, Sansa. This darkness was created by your own mind, it's baggage that you are carrying around with you." _How the hell did he know what she was thinking?_ "It isn't a ghost, it isn't the afterlife, so he isn't there. He can't hurt you in dreams or thoughts, Sansa."

The Queen was wary of guards and small folk hearing in passing, so she spoke in hushed tones, using her hair to curtain her face. "That's where you're wrong." She breathed, and her mope was interrupted by a finger nudging up her chin.

"No." He whispered gently. "I know the afterlife." His voice lost some of its calm. "There is nothing in the afterlife, just darkness." She could hear anger, and she was glad when he released her chin. "The kind of darkness that can make you go mad with loneliness...There's no loved ones to greet you." His voice developed a frightened tone. "You want to cling to anything that passes by. The void is your worst enemy, because there is nothing to distract you, but your own festering thoughts of self loathing."

Sansa couldn't believe what she was hearing, _no heaven...self loathing?_ And her poor Jon had experienced this and had been stuck there. He did a loud sniff and it broke her concentration. _Her brave strong husband in purgatory_. It made her want to cry, and she knew she would if she ever saw him cry. She budged up to him on the stair, so their legs were touching. They wore inch thick layers- they could feel nothing but each other's presence. "It's not the void that's the worst enemy, it's oneself." She said as fiercely as he, to break him from his thoughts. "You're no longer in the void."

"But it waits for us all."

That would haunt her, what he meant, and his conviction and bitterness. He was supposed to be comforting her, not telling her there was nothing after death. It gave her a dark sense of foreboding, that she hoped wouldn't last her a life time. It made her problems seem trivial. "I wish I could have been there, as much as I wish you were in my darkness." _He had been briefly in her darkness, but as a harmless boy_. She ran a hand over his glove and he turned it over so he could grasp her. Their fingers interlocked, and she heard the creak of leather. _Oh how she loved it._ Her head fell onto the furs on his shoulder, her lashes meeting pelts.

He was still, accepting her contact, restraining his urge to pull her closer. "You used it to escape me, why would you want me there?"

"I wasn't escaping you." She noticed he had slackened his grip on her hand, but she clung it back. "I was escaping the situation." _That likely didn't sound any better._

"Because we're siblings..?"

She raised her head, so only her chin was on his furs. "That doesn't cross my mind anymore." His head turned, she saw hope there, their faces were so close. Close enough to share air, or kiss. But they just stared into each other's souls. It was just a shame she had to spoil the moment to describe her trauma. "Ramsay tainted the warmth of intimacy." That sentence expressed it all. _Don't say anymore._

"I'm sorry." He probably didn't know what else to say, he couldn't end it with a kiss or an embrace, since it wouldn't work- on his delicate Sansa."Are you sure we should sit this close?"

"I chose to sit this close." Sansa said. _He was so sweet._ They returned to looking down into the courtyard, they could see men forging swords. A thought came to her. "Why aren't you afraid of swords, or knives after your ordeal?"

Jon straightened, a little taken a back- he had never been asked about that. Sansa clung to his hand, despite the sudden movement. "It's the person wielding them that scares me." He gave a single huff as if it were funny. "Imagine if after every battle, every winning side said 'I ain't doing that again!'- There would be mayhem."

"Or no wars ever again." His wife brought her other hand off her knee and squeezed his bicep. "I'm sorry I sent you into battle so soon."

"Nonsense, it needed to be done." Jon rumbled, but she doubted its sincerity. "For the love of Starks." _Alright that sounded sincere._ And his other hand sandwiched hers, looking at her with intent. "I had to make you a widow, sweetheart." It was dark, but funny. He sobered, putting all his strength in the next question. "Tell me what happened, tell me what he did?"

 _Gods give me strength_. Sansa hand fell from his arm and back to her knee."I don't know what you expect me to tell you, it was very repetitive- but very unpredictable." Jon saw her wringing her skirt.

"Sansa, you might feel awful now, you might even feel vulnerable after you've told me, but it'll go back to normal- I swear it."

Sansa waited, as a guard trod past, she let her hair curtain her face again. "Ramsay was a brute, he had brute strength in everything he did, even when, holding me down, he would violate with the same force he did every time, he never grew gentler during the attacks." She avoided his eye, embarrassed. Sansa was certain she could hear grinding teeth.

"How often?" He said with a heavy heart. _Did he really want to know that?_

"Every night." She heard him cuss, she had to plough on- "He enjoyed biting; shoulder and neck. He only kissed me in public for show." This was usually the point she would be completely incoherent and wet with tears, but she was angry, staring hard at the steps below her. "I used to always be on my front, there were moments where I couldn't breathe, those times I wished I had stopped breathing."

Jon squeezed her hand, it anchored her to the steps next to her him, despite being emotionally or physically drained, she could feel herself surging forward into a tunnel with darkness at the end. Sansa said more. "There were only two times I was on my back, they were the worst, I could see him, he would normally keep my clothes on, on this occasion he removed everything." She ground her teeth before continuing fast, to get it out. "I tried to cover myself, but he would wrench my hands away. He would hold me down with _them_ , I wasn't one for fighting- but when I did get..." She heard Ramsay used the word 'feisty' and it made her sick. "My knees and feet were good at providing resistance, but he used to apply pressure around my throat, I had to physically stop what I was doing for him to give me some slack." She found her hand squeezing Jon's tightly back, she wasn't sure who was making it tremor. "But towards the end of my...captivity, I never fought...I would just lie there, my mind elsewhere."Jon became still, like he was in a trance. Sansa could feel the stillness all around her, her husband's festering thoughts. "Don't imagine, Jon, just don't."

Her husband had a face full of venom, it wasn't directed at her, but when he realised she was really there, safe and well in front of him she saw water in his eyes. "I hope the darkness consumes him." He kissed her hand, hard and with feeling. "Sansa, my love." He was clearly choked up, he kept grunting to stifle himself from losing what was left of his masculinity.

A pressure lifted from her chest, it had been pent up so long it had left an ache. The urge to cry had gone, but she had been so close. "I think he would be in the true seven hells. He's finished, there's no lord of light or one of the seven waiting on him."A sickness crept to her, _she had told him._ Getting it out was rewarding for a time, but now there were no more secrets- he would carry the rape on his shoulders as well, he would be aware of her defilement. _She wasn't a sweet lovely wife, that could be a satisfying reward after a battle._ She pat his knee, he was still trying to conjure up nasty images. "The gods weren't finished with you when you left this world, which is why you were stored in that place. There will be a heaven for us." It came to her in a flash, his darkness was a place to wait, her darkness was a place to hide. "Husband."

It was like he had come out of battle, and lost, he looked wary- and tired, it had taken its toll on him, death, and her abuse. Tears were threatening to fall and he looked up to allow the air to dry them away. "What must you think of me?" He rasped, trying to smile, but that all changed when he lurched. "Oh gods- what must you think-" He looked like he was going to vomit, he looked a blueish white.

"It's a shock, I know." She tentatively clutched his arm, and he looked at it like she had burnt him.

"How can you touch me?"

She dropped him like he was hot, she felt like balling her eyes out. _He didn't want a defiled wife touching his perfectness-_ "I'm sorry."It hardly came out.

He seized her hand before the warmth she had left behind had gone. "No sweet wife." She hiccuped at his urgency. "You had to put up with that horror, only to have me...molest you without a thought of your trauma, I have been arrogant- swaggering about like some git, and I should have known the worst." He kissed the tip of her fingers. "Sorry, I probably should have asked." He was referring to snaring her hand, but he should apply it to every time he made a grab... _and grope._

"It's called ignorance, not arrogance, Jon." While they were in close proximity, she brought her free hand up to caress his face. "Sorry I ruined your wedding night."

"Oh don't be stupid." He said with humoured annoyance. "Silly wife." He was about to kiss her and he halted, he lolled his head to the side, to pull a reluctant smile. "Fucking habit." The King withdrew.

"Jon!" He had cussed in front of her. "I'll rub your gums with soap." She leant and kissed his forehead. "For now let's just play a part in the game."

Her husband stared at her like she was some sort of miracle. "I'll do the peace talks...and if I should fail, I'll warmonger. You deal with court gossip and political intrigue." They were clutching at each other's hands, like some courting couple out of a fairytale. She noted his demeanour suddenly changed, awkwardness rife in his body. "Sansa...?"

"Hm?"

"Were you completely uncomfortable... when I invited you to eat lemon cake off-" There was a creak on the board they were perched on, and they detected another presence behind them, they both inclined and their smiles dropped.

"Magnificent day, isn't it, your graces?" The witch looked smug, and it killed the mood, but it spared Sansa's blushes. _Lemon cakes and abs._ They immediately dropped each other's hands as if they had been snared from an elopement. "The lord of light has given me a vision in the flames."

Jon inclined to his wife."Ey up." And he clambered to his feet. "How did you get in?"

"The lord of light showed me a way."

And Sansa and Jon simultaneously sighed. The young Queen chose this moment to stand. "I'm sure the lord of light can show you a way out."

Melisandre nodded in agreement. _Why in the hells would she agree with that?_ "In due time, my Queen."

"Due?" Sansa said sceptically, _that meant 'I will', but why so willingly?_ "When Winterfell falls, when we die..?" Sansa jested.

"When the war is over."

"Which war?" Jon asked, going into training mode, hand on hilt, with his feet apart.

"The monsters frighten me too, not men in castles squabbling over chairs." Melisandre said with fire in her eyes.

"Good answer." Sansa got the impression Jon was about to say that too, and he closed his mouth and smirked at her. The witch dithered, as if to sandwich herself between them. Sansa made sure that didn't happen. "What was vision in the fire, my lady?"

The red woman smiled at her success, but grimaced at her news. "I think you will be troubled by this bad news, I saw the wall that towers above castle black." She paused for effect, this held the royals attention. "I saw large cracks, and sheets separating, then crashing down on the castle below."

Jon was first to speak. "The wall would never fall, it's been up a thousand of years, and it's maintained by the men." But he never dismissed her completely, nor did he say 'she might be mistaken.' This woman had frightening accuracy when it came to visions, but she couldn't fix her loyalty or conviction on one person. She had failed Stannis. "Should I send a raven to castle black, tell 'em to pack and leave?"

Sansa reached for her husband hand, clasping it with both of hers. "It's best to be safe than sorry."

Jon was squirmed at the request. "The brotherhood won't up sticks and leave their home and their duty on a word of a witch." He said that with traces of venom. "Where would they go?"

"Here?" Sansa suggested, but it would take them a week.

Jon shook his head, he looked apologetic- since he was openly disagreeing with his wife."If the wall doesn't fall, they are the only thing between us and the threat, I can't ask them leave."


	18. Chapter 18

Read and review. check for typos.

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In the afternoon, Jon followed his wife down to the library. She wrote her story and he sat and read, while monitoring her. _Admiring her._ It took him a considerable amount of time to find a book, any would suffice- but the titles put him off. He settled on one called 'Etiquettes of the old versus the new world.' After about an hour of rifling through the book, he found a chapter on wedding ceremonies. He gave a single bark when he stumbled across an old custom, but it wasn't enough to bring his wife out of her concentration.

"Would you prefer keeping your clothes on?" Jon was talking into a book, deliberately obscuring his face.

Sansa was still with her thoughts when the question was posed. "Hm?"

"Do you feel more secure if I allowed you to keep your clothes on?" Jon repeated, in the same nonchalant tone. "Or nightie..."

The Queen stared at her notes, she hadn't quite listened, even when getting him to repeat it. "Sorry, did you just ask about my clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, it's the dress from our travels." She was pleased he had noticed the dress, _it must be his favourite._ Sansa dipped the quill into her pot of ink, and continued to write. She heard Jon sigh with resignation. _She didn't know why?_ "Are you bored doing a little light reading?" She heard him groan as if he was doing a stretch, when she looked up, he was half-way completing one.

Jon relaxed against the back of the armchair. "So this is where you come in the day? You hide away from servants, the witch...me..."

"The servants are busy renovating, doing the laundry, and cooking, you train, the witch watches you, and I keep myself busy, I'm hardly hiding." Sansa had her _far away- I'm still writing, and not going to stop_ voice on.

They were disturbed by a gust of wind coming through the door, the only thing that acted as a windbreak was Sam, dithering in the doorway. "Lovely sight."

Jon glanced over the book. "Yeah, it's great... we're talking and sitting alone in the same room together. Marriage."

"No I meant, utilizing a library, it's nice to see you read." Sam said chirpily, ambling over to the shelves.

"I read." Jon grumbled. "I read all the time." He caught Sansa shaking her head, and he had this urge to...ram her.

"Have you sent the raven?" Sansa eased into their conversation. Sam automatically looked at Jon, knowing the importance of that decision, he had heard from Davos, whom had heard from Jon about the dilemma.

"No." Jon finally deliberated, snaring a new book off the shelf from where he sat.

The Queen spun her head around and her hair went with it. "Why not?" Sam went skittish at the shade being thrown in the King's direction. Sansa saw her husband absently flicking through a very worn book, before settling on a page. He shrugged, as he fingered the sheet. "Jon, why not, and I know you're not reading...Why not?"

His eyes flicked up to hers, locking them in place. "They have to man the wall." She was about to argue with him "-What if the wall falls down because they aren't manning it?"

Sansa stared at him with the same amount of intensity. Sam was trying to hide, in case he got dragged into the storm. "Unlikely..."

The King snapped the book shut. "Melisandre never gave us a date, we don't know when this incident is supposed to happen." The chair groaned as he lurched forward. "What if the fear causes us to act irrationally and leads to our downfall."

 _That was good_."We could apply that to life." _And her story_ , she sneakily jotted the words down. "Let's just humour the witch, and send a raven to castle black, whether they heed us or not- it'll be on their heads."

"You mean the wall will be on their heads." Sam commented, and then hid from the eyes of fire. He sniggered afterwards realising how funny he was. "I'm awful, when Gilly get's here, I'll behave."

Jon stood from his chair. "Gilly and the baby wouldn't do well up here, they're safer where they're at, in fact I think they should go further south." He could see the cagey look Sam was giving him. "Please tell me you haven't sent for them."

"Not yet, I was going to send a raven."

"Don't! They're better off in Oldtown."

"Alright!..Gods, Jon." Sam said incredulously, before grimacing at Jon's very severe face. "I mean...Gods, your grace." He put his hands up in surrender. "I was just getting a book." He randomly plucked one from the shelf. "Good night." And Sam scurried away, leaving the royals in the library.

Sansa had winced at the exchange, not even she could think and write through that madness. "He misses them, Jon, he could at least write."

Jon unflared his nostrils, and took a much needed breath. "I know, but this is hardly the time or place to invite a baby around."

"My thoughts exactly." Sansa mumbled, turning back to her story. She felt a heat source hovering over her shoulder, and knew his hand was there.

"Is that another reason for holding back?"He said, nervous of touching her.

She smiled at his genteelness and hesitation, and she used her quill feather to skim his fingers that were levitating over her shoulder. "Might be." She inclined her head. "I would say the first reason trumps the latter."

"If the world doesn't end... would you?" Jon said, it was warm- but very ominous in Sansa's opinion.

"Of course." The Queen used her writing as a shield. "If I'm not barren."

* * *

The witch had been updated on what Jon knew. "I'm proud of you."

Sansa ignored the affection this woman was trying to force on her. "So, you must understand... your tutorials will be a little redundant." She felt the hot hand on her back. "He has learnt the value of personal space." _Surely she could take the hint?_

"Excellent." The red woman withdrew her hand.

 _Excellent._ Sansa agreed, eating some bread. "He said I was welcome to go into his personal space, but he said he would not invade mine."

"Ah..." Melisandre didn't sound too pleased with that. _Tough._ "So breaching would be out of the question?"

"Most definitely."Sansa nodded prudently.

"You know you can make love with your clothes on?"

Sansa put down her cob of bread. "You can also make love, without making love."

Melisandre see-sawed her head. "Yes, with words, dance...eyes." She did a wide stare. "Mental undressing, do you undress your husband with your eyes?"

"I don't have to undress him." She hid behind her cob of bread, _ladies probably weren't supposed to do that_. "His clothes please me."Biting into another morsel, turning away from the witch. "Nudity may be traditional, but it isn't a necessity." _Though enjoyable in small doses._

"I see." Melisandre was sceptical, with both the new rules, and the Queen's opinion. "Have you kissed him?"

 _Didn't the witch rifle through her thoughts?_ "I'm pretty sure you already know the answer to that." Sansa retorted and amazingly she saw the witch shrug and eat some bread herself. _My gods._

"You are fond of lemon cake, are you not?"

Sansa didn't react, she remained nonplus- eating heartily, kept her eyes narrow and devoid of panic. "You know that, my lady." _Munch munch munch._ "What of it?"

"Nothing, your grace." She said plainly, staring at her with those violet blues. "But I implore you to invade that personal space as many times as you can, so when he enters yours you won't even care."

Sansa had her 'whatever' face on. "Hm."

"And when the time comes, bolt the door, and keep your clothes on...do it standing up if you have to, break the habit."

Something hairy and white was staring across at her from the end of the hall. "But I would still be exposed, since whatever is happening to me- involves..." _Breaching._ Ghost lay down, and put his head across the threshold, staring across at her soulfully, she found herself smiling at the wolf- despite the negative things going through her head. "Ramsay sometimes kept his garments on, sometimes I could feel and smell the blood on them, then there were times he was shirtless-" Melisandre could hear her grinding her teeth. "I hated that."

The witch looked to the wolf. "Summon him." As if she knew the beast might help to calm her.

Sansa saw whom she was referring to staring at her as if waiting, and clicked at him, and his head popped up and he trotted gracefully over to them, he crossed a big distance in very few strides, his head was on the Queen's lap in no time. She stroked him, long and lovingly. The witch saw the smile of the Queen's face, it stayed there for the rest of their talk.

When they were done, the wolf stood and shook, they too followed suit, shaking theirs skirts free of hair. "He never let me pet him that long before, that has to be a record."

"Perhaps he should be allowed in the bedchamber?- I'm surprised Jon didn't have him stationed there." The witch suggested, servants were setting up a mess hall for the small folk lunch, they surveyed people busying themselves.

"I think it was common courtesy for me, but I don't know why he would think Ghost would bother me?- I used to have a wolf once." They both shared a fairly sincere smile, which could have fooled anyone into thinking they were friends.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the ladies, they were being watched by a disgruntled advisor on a elevated corner in the hall, close to the exit. "She still has her in her services, something's up with that girl." He tutted at the display, he heard Jon rumble behind him.

"I know, I can only assume she's keeping the witch close for a reason." He watched them wistfully, his direwolf followed Sansa as she walked out of the main hall, the witch was in tow. "I can't trust her, I don't care if she brought me back...Sansa must believe she can use the witches skills for something."

Davos noted the early stages of a growl, the boy had a bit of stark in him, not probably something Sansa would like to hear. He believed the very thing putting her off giving herself to her husband was the chance they still shared a parent. "She has gained the queen's confidence." He shivered. "You know Melisandre gained Shireen's confidence, and her mother's...and I know what happened to both." He chose to study the King's face. "Her magic works, but to what cost?"

Jon nodded. "I know the price, she told me before I kicked her out of my services."

He had baited Davos in, he always assumed Jon had pushed her away because he didn't like magic, or she was always trying to bed him. "One can imagine, but remind me." Just in case he had missed out on some valuable information. "Does your wife know?"

Jon squatted with a creak, cagily wringing his gloves, he jumped down from the platform. "Come." He inched outside "I told her something, but not all." By his manner, Davos assumed he was going to leave it at that. "But Melisandre wouldn't dare, if I didn't give her permission." Davos wished he got to the point. "If she ever did pay _that_ price, no magic in this world could save her."

The advisor was smart enough to work out what had been suggested to him. "She encouraged you to burn Sansa, as a sacrifice to her god, didn't she?" The younger gent nodded grimly while looking downwards. A sickness consumed Davos. "She's at her games again that little bitch!" His fist slammed against a wooden fence, it spooked a couple of chickens and they took to the air for about a second. "I think Sansa is smart enough to work out what Melisandre could do to her...if not, Melisandre would give us a diversion and do the deed alone."

"There are two problems with that, one being the obvious; Nothing could divert me from Sansa, I love Sansa, the end of my wife's life would be the end of Melisandre's." It was a poignant moment, one that should be relayed to the Queen herself. "And two; it wouldn't work- Sansa doesn't exactly have King's blood, Ned wasn't a king." Jon finally locked eyes with the older gent. "Unless the power is within the whole 'sacrifice of love' thing." The King of the north shook his head. "I've sacrificed enough, and I wouldn't ever send Sansa into that darkness."

Davos seated himself next to his majesty. "Melisandre is sticking around for a reason, and it maybe for that first reason, I don't know how she's going to do it, mind you, but shouldn't she be gaining your trust and painting Sansa in a horrible light?"

"Never."

"I know." He was going to pat his knee but restrained himself. "I feel the red woman is helping the Queen face her own demons, to her help her help you..." Jon looked at him apprehensively, as if asking 'how?' "That's what frightens me, your grace. How and why?"

"I don't need her help, we have connected, I know everything now." The younger gent straightened up. "Unless she is schooling her in the ways of the lord of light?- Converting her to Rhollor?" Further wringing of his gloves. "I suppose she would talk or bewitch my wife into jumping on the pyre herself."

 _Selyse was very submissive,_ Davos thought grimly."She might use your wife to convert you..."

Jon was quiet for a time as if reflecting on something complicated, and in a low rumble-"I'm curious about the technique she'll use."

Davos had to replay it in his mind to make sense of it. "No you're not. Don't be daft, Sansa doesn't have a seductive bone in her body."

"You said it first." Jon raised an inquisitive brow to his advisor. "And you know nothing, Davos Seaworth."

"I'd be very worried about that, if I were you...and if Melisandre was involved." This was his advisor telling him this was no jesting matter. "It wouldn't be real."

"I know, Sansa is delicate at the moment- and I'm...unhinged, I'm retraining myself to be quiet and courteous. It's hard as hell, I see red all the time."

"Save it for the battle, not for the bed."

Jon cleared his throat. "Of course." He stood up from the fence "Let's get outside of the battlements." They dither near the main doors, but didn't make any indication to the gate keeper. "If I get a whiff of blood, I'll give her a fair warning..." He received his advisors concerned expression. "I was referring to blood magic, and telling off the witch if I become aware of it." He tugged at his tunic, he seemed to get distracted for a moment, Davos thought he'd seen something of interest on the ground- and looked.

"What is it?"

Jon then looked up as if something had him spooked. "Melisandre makes shadow babies..."

It was an uncomfortable thing for Davos to recollect, he grunted. "Err yeah...but don't ever-"

"-Don't be daft!" His King waved his hand in refusal. "She's obsessed with heirs- with King's blood, if she can't get a shadow baby from me, she'll get a baby from someone..."

The advisor was visibly shaken. "You think Sansa could birth a shadow baby?" He couldn't imagine the sweet girl doing something so unholy.

"No, a real baby." Jon then pointed at his heart. "With King's blood." He appeared to have made himself nauseous. "Oh seven hells, she wants to burn my baby."

 _There was no baby as of yet._ "Oh gods..." The advisor looked about to make sure they were out of earshot. "Well she is brazen enough to do such things, who even says she'll wait for Sansa to give birth?" Davos looked as nervous as hell, before he raised a finger to make a suggestion. "Just don't dip your wick...anywhere." The emphasis on _anywhere_ made it twice as dramatic. "I'll doubt that'll happen- she's very delicate, but if she ever did change her mind- you have to be ready to say 'no.'

Now it was Jon's turn-"Oh gods." He bet Davos and Sansa would be bouncing off the walls with that little suggestion. "No, Melisandre wouldn't go behind my back and burn people willy-nilly, I'd burn the witch first."

 _So he still wished to dip his wick at some point._ The older gent was getting tired with this obsession with sex _and...fire_. _Coming back from the dead had given his King needs he never had to begin with_."I wonder if she knows anything about those dragons, surely her fire god would warrant the use of dragons?" His attempt at changing the subject was poor since it still held fire within the question.

"What about them?"

"If Melisandre wants you to be a champion of light, then why not have dragons instead of shadow babies and blood magic?" Davos tried. "Though perhaps her blood magic is a way of summoning one."

"Nope. Unless you can pull one out of a sac, I doubt we'll ever be lucky enough to own one, blood magic is a last resort- and nobody is going to die for the sake of a dragon." There was no mirth in his voice, this was a serious old Jon speaking. "There's also the taming of it as well." Jon had that wistful look on him again. "By 'eck if we did get a dragon, we could win this war and many more to come."

Davos smiled sadly. "If only." He looked to the skies above the wall of the battlements. "And as I've been told, Sansa would get the opportunity to ride a dragon."

Jon mumbled something coarsely in response to that.

* * *

Sansa was already snoozing in bed when Jon returned to the chambers, he tried to quietly close the door, and grimaced when it groaned. He glanced over, his wife appeared to still be asleep. He de-robed quickly, and snuck under the covers. He lay supine, slightly uncovered since tonight he felt very warm. He didn't have _the urge_ that night, which rarely happened- at least, not for a long time, it was as if that part of his brain had finally switched off. _Probably a good thing to, mate_. It was like his first year at the wall; no needs, no longing, and he had nothing to his name. The only ambition he had at the time was to become a ranger, just like his uncle Benjen. Now, he had nearly everything. At the moment, he was in possession of Winterfell- until Bran materialized. Jon wasn't just a lord, he was a king, and he had a hypothetical throne. Jon looked at his wife. _And her, you got her too._ His pretty little wife had been hardened by abuse, but she hid it well, she still looked fair and untouched by horror. But soon as her mouth opened, you heard tales of anger and terror, voice thick with betrayal. Their reunion at castle black had been blighted with vengeance, she was fierce, she wanted it all, when he wanted nothing- he just wanted to immerse himself in self-loathing, and pity. _And avoid death_ _at all costs_. But soon as he got the taste of vengeance and conquering, he wanted it all, he had a purpose, to get it all...even her, defend the realms of men...especially her.

At first he was in denial, even when a union was proposed, but eventually he just thought – 'fuck it.' He would decide at the wedding whether he would be up to it. _And he certainly was._ Sansa was beautiful, and he had seen her fierce side, she was every inch a Queen.

Sansa was frowning, in her sleep. Jon hardly saw her smile when she was awake, when she did- it held more value than a dragon. His finger caressed her cheek, she moved and he retreated. _Careful, she could wake up screaming._

* * *

Sansa was in the darkness again, it wasn't windy tonight. So she could hear the silence, she was alone, and cleaning her paws. _That's right she was her direwolf again._ She didn't need clothes, she felt fierce, and she didn't care. After quite a bit of time Sansa decided to venture into the woods, and there she encountered the small boy again.

"Oh you're back." Jon rushed to her, and mussed her fur. She couldn't speak, that was the only problem, she felt she should have some control in her dream. She huffed at him, and he simply smiled. "Let's make a fire."

She followed the figment out of the woods and into the area where she had sat to clean her paws. She watched him make a fire, nervous the boy was going to hurt himself, but if he did- it would be her own fault for not dreaming him safely preparing the fire. He succeeded, she realised this was the first time a new element had featured in her darkness. She rested her head on his legs, and allowed him to stroke her. _Oh bliss._ She stared up at him from the angle she was at, he was staring out into the blackness, she mumbled at him. _What is it?_ And she wondered what her imagination would conjure up.

"I assumed Ghost would be joining me." He suddenly said. "Sorry girl, no hard feelings, ey?" He fussed her again, and she found the comment informative, though it wasn't really a true opinion, it was what she believed he would say. Jon would certainly favour his wolf over hers. "I suppose they didn't have the heart to kill the wolf."

Sansa shifted uncomfortably in his lap. She thought about _lady_ the body she was in, killed by her father. _But who on earth would kill Ghost...The night's watch?_ _Why would her mind give her this puzzle?- And why couldn't she speak?_ She let out a whine, and Jon hugged her, gripped her tight.

"At least I got you...we might be here for some time." He said fairly ominously. She felt her tail wagging, but it soon slowed to a halt when she realised- _a figment says he's happy you are here, great_!


	19. Chapter 19

The Queen woke up with a face full of pillow, she rose bleary eyed above it, to remind herself where she was, and to check whether it was morning. While acknowledging the daylight that streamed through the windows, she realised her hand was resting on warm flesh. In a moment of ignorance and confusion, she wiggled her fingers over the flesh in hopes of figuring out which body part of hers she was touching, she received no indication. Her brain finally woke up and she flipped her head round to see Jon, and her hand...on his stomach. She snared her hand back, just as he blinked open his eyes. Jon's head rose from his pillow to acknowledge the fleeting contact, his head dropped back onto the pillow again with no comment. Sansa hoped he thought he'd imagined it.

"Morning." She said, to try and break his thought trail, or maybe any tension. Though the only tension was coming from her. She did a push up under the covers and flipped herself over. _The pillow exercises were paying off._

"Look at you, so agile." Jon said amiably, adjusting the covers back over him, she had accidently tugged them away. "Someone has had their porridge."

 _But no oats, hopefully._ The Queen rolled out of bed and adjusted her nightie. "I had a good sleep, very restful...nothing happened."

"Well that's normally what happens when you sleep." He too slunk out of bed, pulling the covers with him. He wrapped himself and marched into the other room.

 _He must have been nude again._ Sansa unfolded her divider. "I meant I didn't have any nightmares." She called over into the other room. She saw one of her handmaiden's come in, they spotted her and followed her behind the screen. This girl wasn't Agnes, so she had to be normal. _Whatever normal meant?_ She was silently undressed, and had a bowl of hot water brought to her. And she washed independently, as usual. _She never let a maid wash her, not anymore_. But it was strange not talking through the screen. The only time she spoke was when she was selecting something to wear, different gowns were presented to her. The day wasn't important, so she picked the plainest. Sansa was assisted into her freshly laundered small clothes and shift, before she got into her selected attire.

The handmaiden gathered the nightie and the bed linen. _The ones she could find- since her husband had scarpered with them._ "Your grace." She actually curtseyed while holding a pile bigger than her, all the Queen saw was a dipping pile of fabric.

"Thank you, no bread for me this morning, that'll be all." Sansa then politely dismissed her, flicking her hair out of her robes. When the door had shut, she skirted around the door to the other chamber. "It's safe to come out now." Sansa then seated herself at her dresser and started her routinely brush through of her hair, she then inclined when she realised she heard nothing in response. "Jon?" She continued to brush, staring at the ajar door in the reflection. _Nothing, surely he hadn't dressed and snuck out during her ritual?_ "Are you in there?" The Queen was beginning to feel stupid, she was probably talking to herself. She ventured close to the door. If he isn't in there, then there is no harm going in. Sansa tapped the wood as she pushed her way in. Excepting she had been alone the entire time, she saw a pale of water, a towel, and nothing more, until she pushed the door further and she saw Jon wrapped in the bed sheet sitting by the fire. "No wonder why you're cold, you're naked." She commented, expecting him to look up. He didn't, _had he fallen out with her?_ "Jon?"

He was staring into the fire.

"What is-?" It hit her like a pale of cold water- _he can see something._ She stooped to see into the flames and tracked all the way to his face. _Definitely_. "What do you see?" She tried, and it fell on the deaf ears. She squatted so low she was almost sitting, right next to him. "It's not certain." She said, as if whatever he saw, if it was bad, she needed him to know that nothing was certain. The Queen waved her hand between his face and the flames, casting shadow on his features. "Your grace?"

She remembered she had heard screams, perhaps he could hear the screams- maybe even see the person screaming, and the cause. _How awful._ She gripped his shoulders, and shook, gently at first. "Jon?" Nothing frightened her more than having Jon not acknowledging her. Sansa pulled him sideways into her bosom, he was pliable- but his face fixed on the light, neutral, devoid of terror, pain or relaxation."Jon, my love." She was threading fingers through his hair desperately.

The Queen finally decided to use her arm to block his sight, she put him in a head lock about the face. He suddenly made a deathly rattling noise and she slackened to find him fluttering his eyes, she clutched him about the face and levelled it was hers. "You're back."

He looked like he'd just woken up again, his eyes rolled about before acknowledging her, holding his face affectionately. "Sansa." He rumbled, she had never held him like this, he looked lovelorn and a bit embarrassed, he pulled back- it was overwhelming him. "Seven hells..." He put a hand up to probably check she was real. "I'm alright, thank you." He began to crawl away from her, withdrawing cagily from her soothing hands. _It was like some role reversal, how funny._

"What did you see in the flames?" She got straight to the point about her concerns.

He scrutinized this query. "What makes you think I saw anything?" _Perhaps he was sceptic the woman before him was his wife?_

"You frightened me."

"That sounds about right." _Was this the confirmation Jon needed?_ "I'm fine, sweetheart..." _Clearly yes._ He tried to rise unaided but she was on him like a mother. "Sansa." He was trying to be gruff despite his apparent urge to swoon. "Send for my squire." He couldn't believe he was discouraging her. "Podrick will do."

"Really?" She escorted him to a chair, not seeming to care he was naked. _Just don't look down_. He dropped heavily into the chair, she winced, she was sure he sat on something vital. _Maybe everything was numb from the waist down?_ She was still bending over, checking his face, fawning over him. Jon at first fluttered, and then something clicked and he tried to steer her to one side.

"Woaw, enough now, love."

"You don't want your wife helping you?" Sansa said surprised. "You got lost in those flames, they consumed you."

"I was merely daydreaming, back up-" He was getting flustered, he suddenly noticed the sheets were on the floor by his feet. "Oh...shit." He stooped quickly, snared his blanket, and he awkwardly adjusted himself, she lurked over him- as if studying his mood."Sansa you're crowding me!" Jon was getting agitated, so he snapped and wafted her away.

"Oh alright." She kept her voice to a minimum, but she was a little annoyed. What eased her was the fact her husband looked genuinely embarrassed and was blushing by his nakedness. _How odd his nudity in her presence bothered him._ "Bless you, I'll send for your squire then." She soothed, and stroked him like a dog, his head jarred like she had slapped him. _Yikes_. "And off I go." She excused herself.

Sansa summoned Podrick, and he came almost immediately. _He must have been in the hall._ While he dithered around her husband, she sat and sewed in her lounger, waiting for him to emerge. She felt different that morning, sated, with small traces of annoyance because her husband told her to **ck off in the politest way possible. There was the tinge of concern within her that he had seen something terrible in the flames, but other than that she felt sedated. _At least she wasn't petrified, haunted, or sad._ Sansa felt like a conqueror, she felt she could do anything today. She smiled as she imagined restful nights of uneventful dreams, and waking up dry, with no ounce of sweat. Feeling clean, she didn't have to scratch and burn to purge herself.

"Better now." Jon said gruffly, showing Podrick out. She realised it was intended for her ears. He tugged at his tunic- setting his face into that of someone who had no worries.

"Oh, are you?" Sansa pulled a stitch through her muslin, clocking him under her brows. She had misgivings, but she wouldn't push the issue straight away."It's going to be a good day to day, beautiful, there was a red sky last night." She saw Jon glance across at her, toying with all his buckles. "It's like I've been blessed by the gods."

"Steady on, we got blessed a couple of weeks ago, how much luck are we having? I wouldn't say today I feel blessed." Jon said, putting on his sword scabbard. He analysed everything in the room for some reason, she could tell it was all to avoid her. "Has Agnes said anything odd to you this morning, did she do anything?"

Sansa halted what she was doing. _Melisandre you mean?_ "She didn't come in this morning. Another maid was in..." She didn't like his shiftiness. "...What did you see in the fire?"

"Sansa enough! I didn't see anything!" He _fired_ back at her, his nostrils flared. Her nervous energy returned again, she preferred it when he was brooding, her bodice had no room for her extended breath, so she had to put a hand on her stomach, his face softened and he raised an unsteady hand. "Sorry..." His face searched for something to add. "Sorry, love." And he made to leave, _probably to break a few shields._ "I'll see you-"

"-Later?"

"I'll see you, when I see you." And he frigidly left her.

* * *

Sansa was in two minds about her husband's mood, sure it was a more subdued mood which tamed his libido. _That's a good thing...right?_ But he had sunk into an old state of mind, one she didn't expect to see again. It was like he had died and come back again, and was learning how to live, and fight, and talk to her.

He avoided her like the plague, her and the witch. Davos relayed to her an incident in the courtyard, where someone swung a sword at his, it collided as per usual- but he dropped it immediately. Everyone was stunned into silence. She could imagine that and feel sorry for her husband's humiliation, but apparently he said 'Well done.' But it didn't happen again, the same man that had disarmed him, was unable to hold onto both his shield and sword when there was a rematch.

"Has anything happened?" Davos inquired over breakfast, she sat with him in the great hall, munching on scraps.

"Well, apart from him skirting around me, and avoiding my eye..."

"Is that right?" _I see._ Everybody knew that was odd, apart from Samwell, he appeared unfazed and unmoved by Jon's demeanour, he had obviously encountered this at the wall, minus the sword dropping.

Sansa leaned in as if to share a secret."- He had an absence while staring into the fire."

Davos nodded as if he knew where she was about to go. "He seen something he didn't like." He did a hiss as he adjusted himself in his seat. "Well...the witch has been malingering near the council meetings, trying to get a private audience with him."

She rubbed the crumbs off her fingers. "Well, she's been succeeding with me, but I haven't told her I noticed any change, but I won't need to. Everybody can see it. I just don't want her butting in."

The advisor was surprised. "Why do you keep her at your council if you don't like her council? – I thought maybe you have grown fond of-"

"-No, ser." She said with hushed tones. "She may think she is being useful, but every little thing is for her own benefit and _the good of the realm_ , I'd rather her think she is doing good, and I'm heeding her advice, than for her to try something else." Sansa looked pleased with her objective. "I best be careful, she's a good mind reader, and she has a part to play in the war to come."

"Don't tell me that." Davos shuddered, sitting back from the food. "I'll tell you this..."

Sansa glanced at the servants dithering far back. "Go on..."

"He does love you." Sansa sat back like she had been given some lousy advice _._ _I know that_. "He believes Melisandre's plan is to give him an heir, a real baby, or shadow baby to do a mystical deed."

"And there was me thinking she wanted to burn me." Sansa said, before taking a deep gulp of her wine, she saw the fleeting look of surprise in Davos's eye, she withdrew her goblet. "Ah...I see, that's still an option." She brought the goblet to the table. "I assume she is hoping Jon doesn't get too attached."

"I thought that too, I wasn't aware you knew about the burning...well I knew you were smart enough to figure it out." The advisor admitted honestly, _what a flatterer_. "He'll never detach himself from you, don't you worry, pet." He held her hand and she squeezed it.

"Bless you." She didn't doubt the man or her husband. Her wine was in her hand again, she felt more and more like Cersei every day."Do you think the witch has given him a false vision, or slipped him something to...put him off? " She was on the verge of sniggering, _why would this amuse her?_ She glanced at her wine, and put it down. _You've had enough._ "Perhaps she wants to go the route of sacrifice and shadow baby." Davos was shaking his head. "No?" Sansa began. "I suppose a shadow baby wouldn't be possible, he can't stand the woman."

Davos did a sort of cluck. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Melisandre seems to think she is some salvation for me." She was picking up the wine, again, it was automatic. "I don't see the point of the lessons and cleansing ritual-" She was saying too much, Davos was starting to look concerned.

"What in the seven heavens has she been doing?" Davos took wine with her. "Don't trouble yourself, your grace."

"Until we've won, until we've eliminated our enemies- they'll always be trouble for myself, and all of us." She said with so much intent it couldn't be matched. "I'm still waiting for the red woman to turn into a dragon, or conjure one for us- to turn the tide." She looked up at the sound of footfalls, somehow she knew it was the King. He must have a unique tread. She employed a warm smile, and there was a fairly weak exchange. He was being shadowed by Melisandre, and Davos felt compelled to correct his own expression, it had been very morbid, if not a little scheme-ish.

"Your grace, a surprisingly warm day." He was poised to be as chirpy as Samwell.

"The lord of light is in our favour." Strangely it was the King that had said that, and they couldn't tell if he was being sincere, nor could they exchange a look without alienating the witch. But the witch looked smug as hell.

Sansa felt haunted by it, and she had no way of squelching it. _Had he paid a price for this favour?_ She imagined her Jon and the witch copulating, making a shadow baby. She supposed her husband would say 'I did it for us, I did to save you or our baby from the pyre.' If he did say that it would make it feel much better, but only in her head- and only for a short while, before the urge to cry would arrive. "If you would excuse me, ser, milady, your grace." She dropped her napkin and hurried off, her red hair like a banner, flagging behind her. Since she was graceful and fast, no one would have known she was in distress, she got behind the door of the chamber. Her first sobbed wracked over her, she had made it to the sanctuary of her bed. "Nothing is certain, you don't know yet." She said through tears, her mouth against the back of her hand.


	20. Chapter 20

I apologise for the spelling mistakes that I have missed, I've edited about 3 times after posting.

* * *

Sansa was in the dark woods in her dreams, it was hard to name the place as the woods since there were only shapes and shadows of trees- but no actually trees. She heard a boy's laughter, ditzy and frenzied, as if he was over excited and had little air. She knew it must have been Jon larking about, no crying this time. Sansa/lady tiptoed using the edge of her paws to quietly sneak up on the boy in the woods, to hopefully nip at his ankles- and have a good play before he went back to sobbing on the forest floor. _Something she should be doing around about now._ At that moment Jon rushed past brandishing a stick, but vanished into the shadows, his laughter dying.

There were cycles in the dream, she would sit alone in the dark, and she would be visited by lady, then she would become lady and venture into the woods and find Jon. Jon would either be waiting or he would be crying. When she couldn't find Jon she would wait, but when Jon never showed up, that normally meant she would be alone for the rest of the night, or visited by Ramsay. But alone was better.

Jon on the other hand didn't do well on his own, which surprised her. His character always suggested he didn't look for company. But that was only a misconception on her part, since he was never allowed company or a proper place in her household. She had been an ass to him growing up because sometimes he would forget his station, at those times she echoed her mother.

She encountered a presence in a clearing, it was the boy. She snuck up to the curled up figure on the floor to sniff him, and lick his ear hole. On approach the smell was different, but not bad different, it was still familiar. But as she approached she didn't see a mop of black hair, this was brown with traces of red. She froze, her back straight and diagonal- aiming at the figure, the boy sat up and she whined in surprise. _Bran!_

"Lady?" He rubbed his eyes, blinking profusely. "Wait...Sansa?"

* * *

She woke up. But not with a start, or drenched in sweat, she just blinked her eyes open as if waking naturally from a blissful sleep. She put a hand over her face to block out the light, and recover from her new visitor in her dream. The bed dipped next to her as her husband rolled onto his side, Sansa inclined her head to look at him. "Morning." She hummed. His hair was a ruffled mess, so she brought her hand up to comb it back and froze mid sweep. _That had been very casual of her_. Jon still looked groggy from sleep but her contact had woke him up, a lovelorn look slipped onto his face. She withdrew realising she had been in an odd sort of mood when she came to bed. Upset and suspicious. She had a very good reason, she believed her husband had dallied with the witch. Sansa bore a hole in the canopy.

"Nearly there, coming along very nicely." Jon said, she guessed he was referring to her impromptu affection. "Good morning." She saw him prop his head upon his hand, it looked a little effeminate, an odd look for him. _Her husband was the manliest man that could ever man about_.

"Sleep well?" Keeping her voice devoid of betrayal. _Nothing was certain._

"Very."

 _Why was that? – Did the witch tire you out?_ "Good." She twiddled with her thumbs that were resting on the covers.

"Were you alright last night?- You hurried off to bed very early. I thought you were either sick, or...annoyed with me." He scrutinized her with his stormy eyes. Not exactly his probing eyes, but it gave her the impression he was waiting for some mundane explanation or a kiss to end his agony. "So what's it gonna be?"

She simmered on the pillow, debating on whether she was going to voice her concerns or lie...again. _No more lying_. "You said the lord of light was in our favour...what happened- what did you mean?" Her voice edging towards prickly. "What did you do?"

Jon looked vexed, but had a sudden jolt of memory. "Oh yes." He sat up, pulling the covers with him, and off his wife. "I had something confirmed to me yesterday, don't worry...you'll like part of what I'm going to say."

"I'll be the judge of that."

This appeared to have knocked the King's confidence, he did a long blink as if he weren't sure.

Sansa sat up in a quick fashion to be level with him."Well get it out, Jon."

The corner of his lip twitched before he got back to his story."You know a couple a days ago when I was by the fire?"

"Yes." She bounced a little to the centre of the bed. "You saw something...I knew it, you-"

"-Yeah...I did." His eyes seemed to move craftily away from her eyes. "It's not something incredible, it unsettled me." He had to explain that, because he knew he'd but outed for lying to her. He paused for an unknown reason and it made Sansa skittish, he carried on regardless."I'm not use to seeing things in fire...never thought images could be so clear- but the flamed background confused me."

"Oh come on." Sansa bounced, sitting up to cross her legs. "What did you see, or what did you think you see?"

"I must remind you, there was a lot of fire, so I assumed the vision related to fire- and I panicked." Jon eased.

"Dragons?- Dragon fire?" The Queen did that lurch again, the bed linens were getting more bedraggled, but Jon was more interesting in the fact his wife's breasts were unsupported and...jiggling. Hence why he kept delaying his explanations, she got so annoyed she moved, and her tits moved independently, _and that was a lot of tit_. _He was a typical man, and a horrible one to pick now to look._

He did another long extended blink."No, not that exciting I'm afraid." _And he was referring to the vision._

"Why do you keep stopping?" Sansa thumped her fists against the bed. "Pyre fire- did you see something burning?"

Jon met her eyes, after their short detour. "Yeah." And scratched his beard, disguising the fact he was looking at _them_ again _. Fuck_. "I thought..." He began reluctantly, drawing a deep pained breath. "I saw you...screaming in agony." He stared softly and sympathetically. "I assumed you were being burnt." He then jabbed at the air. "Assumed."

Sansa was still, he was right- it wasn't something to get excited about. _It must have been horrific_."Oh my gods, no wonder why you were spooked." She went pale as the sheets _. A cruel fate_."So the witch confirmed it, did she?" It was as if she was going to recoil and flee, in case they did decide to chuck her onto a pyre. "That's how it is to be..."

"Seven hells, Sansa!" Jon seized her by the arms, in a fluid surge forward. But the act itself was as gentle as holding a babe. "No, that's not going to happen, I won't let it, you crazy woman. Before you think the worst of me...the witch said I misread the vision."

"Like she would tell you, you misread _that_!" _Why would the witch object to that?_ Sansa thought morbidly. _Anything to honour that retched god._

Jon gave her the tiniest of shakes."Hey...listen, she said I misread, and even if she had told me it was truth, I wouldn't have allowed it- I would have fought against it. You would not have been burned."Jon thought he was going to have to backtrack to soothe her, or withdraw from her in case of a relapse, but instead, she threw herself into him for a hug. _Oh_. A safe loving embrace that he thought he would have to woo to get again, _or bribe her with lemon cake_. It was reminiscent of their first hug in castle black, with major differences...

He was shirtless, and she was in a nightie- and so he could feel stuff; nipples, and pretty soon she would feel something of his too. It was never a good time to get 'one of those', especially during a tender moment, _it had started out so innocently, why couldn't it remain as such?_

Guilt racked his conscience, _he was a wicked man_. _A typical over-sexed man, what he would give to be a virgin again_. "And break." Jon announced, subtly withdrawing, but allowing his hands to slide along the sleeves of her nightie. "Must never have too much of a good thing."He said simply, and for a moment it was like he was talking to a squire. "Practice makes perfect." _Keep your shield up._ He was on the verge of ruffling her hair, but one look at that perfect radiant mane, and he realised that would have been exceptional.

His wife had a hopeful smile on her face, a rare sight. "How did she interpret it then? How did she worm her way out of that vision?- I'm surprised she didn't convince you – you had had foreseen my death."

Jon shook his head. "Well she didn't..." And raised his brows, almost in a suggestive manner. "In fact she said you were giving birth." He said finally, and without thought. And he witnessed her slowly deflate.

 _Oh dear, he had said something wrong_. Jon had been hot and bothered moments ago, but after that reveal- the room had then plunged into ice, the tension returned, her hopeful smile was shunted off her face, this had not endeared her. It didn't offend him, because he merely thought she was afraid of the pain.

"Oh..." Was all she could form.

 _Now you have frightened her!_ Jon had to fix this. "There's no date, sweetheart, so it could be years from now." It looked like her head was about to explode, he winced at her imagining the pain and horror she endured before they were reunited, followed by an uncomfortable consummation, and agonizing child birth. His hand was on her face, trying to stroke away that harshness. "You have nothing to fear." _But the white walkers._ His face twitched earnestly."One thing at a time, ey?"

After a moment of deliberating, she shakily laid her hand over his, the one that adorned her face. "I know." She said sweetly, and he had this urge to kiss her gently, but if he got carried away he would bruise her. Ruin her. "You're right, we don't know when." She began. "But...now we know I'm not barren."

"Yes." He whispered, and used his other hand to sandwich her cheeks. He wanted to massage them, squeeze them, mush her face till her lips pursued in a comical fashion, _but of course he wouldn't- Another time perhaps_. On another note -"We'll have heirs someday."

"Heirs? Plural...you're so greedy." Sansa murmured sardonically, allowing this intimacy. A comfortable type of intimacy that lowered her guard, and made her sleepy. She blinked blearily at him. _Babies, babies... little princes._ But then she remembered Melisandre's glee, and she felt nauseous. "Oh gods...why was the witch happy giving you this news?- Surely she gains from this?- She wants this."

They sobered, Jon clutched at her severely. _Seven shits_. "That crossed my mind." His wife didn't feel reassured by this comment. "But like I said- that isn't going to happen, nothing will happen under her terms. She won't be within 100 yards of us if you had a baby." He slackened his grip. "There are only certain pieces of advice I take from her, and sacrifices aren't one of them, I'll only talk to her about visions." He was trying to read his wife, she hardly ever looked placid. "Trust me."

"So if you believe in her visions, can't you believe the wall will fall?"

 _Not this agai_ \- _Oh_. Jon went pensive, he released his wife. "Hm." He dropped his hands to his knees. "I suppose." He stared at _nothing in particular_ , as he deliberated. He became distracted by his wife's form again, she was all breast and child bearing hips, he started smiling serenely to himself.

"Don't smile at death." Sansa said incredulously.

"No, it's..." _Babies, little sons and daughters. Gods, if he was as insatiable as he was, she would birth 20_. _Damn he was greedy._ "Things are looking up...for us I mean."

She hoped he was referring to the union and not the wall."But please...now will you consider sending a raven to castle black?" Sansa was touching his arm, stroking it, making his hair stand on end. "You owe them a warning."

"Yes." He couldn't remember what he was agreeing to, he was lost in her... "Anything."

She beamed at him. "Good." _Her poor husband had so many worries, he was staring into a void, and grinding his teeth with the stress of it all._ "One thing at a time, ey?" She echoed.


	21. Chapter 21

Anybody else had trouble uploading chapters? I didn't use to, the site keeps displaying a red message every time I upload- have queried.

* * *

Sansa traipsed through the mud in the courtyard. "I suppose you will marry Gilly when the time comes?" Ghost tailed her and Sam, as if eavesdropping.

Sam kept his feet on the move so he didn't sink. "Well we call each other husband and wife, and people have seen us with a baby, so there really is no need. We have lay together, the ceremony will be all pomp and a little redundant...If you ask me."

"But you should pledge..." She was going to say ask for blessings and pledge before the gods, but she didn't know his religion. He might not have shared his family's beliefs, after all his 'wife' was a member of the free folk.

"I made one pledge to the nights watch- I'm still waiting for them to come take my head. When you take a wife, you take the woman away and keep her, that's the old way- before ceremony and grand affairs were made."

"The free folk way." Sansa frowned. "Abduction?"

"It's a little romantic, don't you think, your grace?" Sam looked very sly, curious if a noble lady with an addiction to fairytales would indeed like this.

"Spirited away by a man full of lust?"

"Love." Sam added, with gesture to his heart. "A man's love."

Sansa smiled but shook her head. "It's only romantic if the woman has the tiniest of regard for the man taking her away." She tugged at her skirts. "And if it's a rescue from a place where the woman feels unhappy."

"Aha, I took my wife from a horrid place, and Gilly does actually like me. I suppose our story belongs in one of your books." He heard banging on a shield, and they both looked up to see Jon thrashing someone, their shield was staying firm. "Someone's getting better, that lad normally drops it by now."

Sansa looked wistfully at her husband, the training technique did work. _And he looked good when he was-"_ Don't get too close, he'll ask you next." She warned.

Sam grimaced, looking for an escape. "I think you're right, let's go this way." And he had the audacity to steer the Queen away.

Sansa could walk normal again she found her feet on stone and wood, they got back onto their topic."Did you read fairytales growing up?" She wondered if any noble boys ever took an interest in that sort of thing.

"I read anything available really, I wasn't much into strenuous activities...well there was one..."

The portly chap thought for a moment, and the Queen saw Davos and Melisandre having a heated conversation near the battlements- she tried to read their lips, but it was difficult, one had a foreign accent, so their mouth moved differently, and Davos's beard hindered her from seeing the corner of his mouth. She then heard Sam ask her a question.

"...Did you ever play that, your grace?"

Sansa brought her eyes to him. "What was that?"

"Haven't you heard of it before? Dead fun, one person counts to a number and everyone hides, when the person reaches the specified number they can start looking for the people that are hidden."

 _Oh he was talking about hide and seek._ She felt guilty she had tuned him out. "Oh I know of that game, I haven't played that since I was nine. It wasn't the type of game I normally partook in. All the other children, Arya especially, loved it." She was surprised Sam played such a game, you had to dash about. "Who did you prefer to be, the seeker or the hider?"

"Oh the hider, everybody loves being the hider, you just have to find a place and stay put. Exciting!" She saw utter delight in his face as if reminiscing. "There were two other versions of the game. One you could move to different hiding places while the seeker was looking elsewhere-"

"-Isn't that cheating?" Sansa frowned, slowing to a halt. "It sounds more like a hunt."

"Oh yeah, but it's still fun. The other version you had to assemble at the point where the seeker left to win the game."

Sansa grinned, remembering the last game she played. "I remember Arya tried to steal my hiding space, she squashed herself in and tried to force me out, even then she was angry with me." She tittered to herself. "But I'm sure we were playing a version where we had multiple seekers."

"Oh my." The gent said, keen to know more.

"The seeker had to hide with the hider when they found them, and the rest of the seekers had to find them all." She explained, finding herself missing such innocent games. "A time when hiding was fun, and not about survival." She clasped her hand in front of her to finish. She glanced around to see Davos and Melisandre still arguing, Sam followed her eye.

"Well at least they're talking." He could see the tension in Sansa's face, _though women always looked pained or annoyed with something_. "Perhaps we should play a game?"

The Queen froze in her tracks. "A game of cards...chess?"

"No, hide and seek."

She heard it, and she replayed it in her mind. _Was he mad?_ "I am Queen, I can't have the small folk seeing me frolic about like a child!"

The gent put his hands up in defence."Merely a suggestion, your grace." She looked about her incredulously, he tried to counter this- "You are Queen, you can do what you like, and they wouldn't care...and the game doesn't involve...frolicking, you just walk about and hide."

He spoke like it was inevitable, as if they were going to play a game. _Foolish boy!_ "So while my Kingly husband trains and warmongers, I'm going to be hiding in cupboards and under furniture waiting for you to find me?" Her hands found her hips. _Could this man see it?_

"You could be a seeker?"

"It's a big castle, it'll take forever." _Why was she using that as an argument, she wasn't going to do it!_

Sam looked defeated, but a smile split his face and he clicked his fingers. "More than one seeker." He jabbed in every direction. "We could get a few people involved, it would be a team effort." He leant in order to whisper. "We could give ourselves names, hero names with nouns." People were walking casually by, while this man tried to convince her to lark.

"No, Sam, the more people we involve...the bigger the joke becomes." She was about walk off, but stepped right into Davos. "Woaw! Sorry Ser."

Davos made an open gesture of warmness."Nonsense, your grace, it was me at fault. I should have known from your stance you were trying to make a quick getaway." He noticed the portly gent next to her was a bit sheepish. "Oh dear oh dear, what was afoot?"

Davos always made her smile. "Sam and I were talking about silly little games." Sansa said, the smile still plastered across her face. " _Children's_ games."

"Ah, now I see why you were trying to get away."He said with furrowed brows. "Nothing wrong with a game or two, what could have Sam possibly suggested?"

The chirpy chap was still keen, eyes ferreting between her grace and the ser. "The Queen and I were going to play hide and seek."

"No we weren't!" Sansa turned on him shrewdly, she felt like slapping his arm. But Sam was such a kindly man, she couldn't possibly. She attempted to smooth away her frown while tucking a red strand behind her ear. She looked to Davos, composed and in all seriousness- "Has a raven been sent?" Sam looked too, eager to learn the answer.

Davos slowly nodded, ominously. "Aye, your grace."

She gave him a stiff smile, to show her pleasure, but it expressed her grimness of the whole situation. The red woman was dithering a couple of yards back, unnerving her. "Now we wait." She said to her male companions, and Melisandre bobbed her head courteously, as if she heard.


	22. Chapter 22

Sansa stood proudly in the room normally reserved for the war council meetings. Sam was sitting at the table looking as anxious as ever, rapping his fingers on the great map of Westeros. The main door opened, and they turned into the wind that came bellowing through it. Podrick closed the door behind him and moved to the centre of the hall, in a grave fashion. "Your grace?- I was told you needed me urgently."

She stared at him fiercely, Podrick wondered what he had done wrong? Then the Queen turned her head to Sam to give him an ominous nod.

"Right...err...Pod, is it?"

"Yes, my lord."

"No need for that." Sam gestured unfavourably at the formality. "We want to invite you to play a game of hide and seek."

Both the gents were sure they heard a cuss chunter out of her grace's mouth- _they must have been mistaken._ Podrick gave a hesitant nod, clearly taken aback. "Right, I see." He couldn't really protest, but his mouth twitched as if he was wording something incomprehensible. "Erm... right...err...Is this some kind of exercise, if you pardon me asking?"

Sansa rolled her eyes, and composed herself. "If you like?" Studying his demeanour to see if it still bothered him. "Trust me, Podrick, the humiliation is mutual. You can decline this-"

"-No, I don't mind, your grace, it would be an honour."

And she huffed, she shouldn't have, they were taking up his valuable time. _Maybe it was an honour_. The Queen composed herself- yet again. "I suppose it would be." Sansa circled him, very much like a predator. "But the King mustn't know." She halted to gauge his reaction, he was flummoxed.

"That'll be difficult."

"Why?" Her voice lilting towards her inner child. "Are you his little informant?"

Podrick shook his head adamantly. "No, because it's a game that requires a vast area, and movement. And if he asks me to do something, or asks me what I'm doing, am I to lie, your grace?" His voice lacked earnest. It was a humoured tone.

And she clucked her tongue. "Do as they do in King's Landing, Pod."

A subtle smile adorned his usually gormless face. "Your grace." He bobbed his head courteously.

* * *

The game was afoot. Sansa looked over at the crypt doors. _Too easy._ She walked at a fast pace towards the main doors of the castle, she was tempted to run. The best hiding places can be found after you've run, since you're giving yourself extra time. But a Queen couldn't gallivant around the castle, she made sure Podrick and Samwell knew that. Hence why they both had to count slowly to a hundred, to give her time to find a hiding place at a steady stroll. It was only when she got into the safety and privacy of the narrow corridors did she take off, picking up her skirts and clomping in her boots to a wing of the castle that had a labyrinth of halls. _This was her domain, her kingdom, and she knew this place better than any of them- THE QUEEN OF THE NORTH!_

She opened the first door and dashed in, and surveyed the furnishings and all the opportunities. Sansa could stand in a fireplace, sit in a wardrobe, sit in the window seat and draw the curtain shut. _No_. She ventured out of the chamber, and back into the hall, proceeding down it with intent. She was nearing a hallway she didn't like, horrible memories resided down there. But her feet proceeded to carry her down the forbidden area, she saw the door and her breath hitched. She imagined the horror, then strangely she remembered her playmates were probably halfway through counting. Her eagerness to play the game well, made the nasty memory dissolve.

"Why am I doing this?" She said crossly, and she found her hand touching the door of horrors. She blew a whistley breath through her lips. "Right, in we go." The door creaked the same as it use to. She surveyed the room with disgust, before crossing the threshold. _She had done it._

The smell that reached her nose was the same; wax, death, damp, early stages of spoiling meat, and a smell that a woman should never talk about, a smell she could only imagine was potent in brothels. _That's in your head, that smell doesn't linger_. The door thudded against the wall, and she jarred. _She was alone, it was only a draft._

It was seemingly undisturbed, and dusty. This surprised her. _Surely the servants came in to normalize it?_ The bed looked made, but not freshly. The dank darkness of the atmosphere represented her feelings now, and _then_. This room used to be an ordinary room, but now it was a gateway to the seven hells.

 _You are supposed to be hiding._ Sansa did a quick sweep, and clomped quickly over to the wardrobe to throw it open. _My gods._ She felt sick, her Bolton wedding dress was still in there, she snared it- about to claw it to shreds. But instead she released it, and slammed the wardrobe shut. She would deal with that another time, _with scissors or fire_. _Got to hide._ Sansa dipped so she could scramble under the bed, and she pulled her petticoats under with her. Her breath caught the dust on the floor, and it lifted it into the air, she covered her mouth and nose, and coughed and spluttered, praying for silence to consume her. _Damn._ The Queen managed to quell her irritation as she heard a distant door creak open, by the tone of the thud- she knew it were the double doors that led to her wing. She was laid on her front, her chin caressing the dirt on the boards, quiet as death, as precise footsteps were heard. This person wasn't in a hurry, further more they were heavy, but a heaviness she believed was supposed to be antagonistic. _So she believed._

She heard a door open, but it wasn't hers. Probably the first room Sansa had gone in and abandoned, and they weren't in there long. _Were they even trying to look?_ Another door opened, again still not hers. They wandered into that room and then wandered back out again. _This isn't fair._ She felt the floorboards underneath her tremor since they aligned with the boards in the hall. _Clomp.. Clomp.. Clomp...Clomp_. They were too close, frighteningly close- _why was this fun again?_

 _Clomp...Clomp...Clomp...Clomp._ They came to a halt outside the door.

"..."

Her heart was racing, and she was sure it would rumble the boards beneath her. Her body trembled in anticipation, and they weren't even in the room yet. The door creaked open, Sansa saw a slither of it from her position, the door, and the boots. She wanted to put a hand to her mouth, either to cover or bite, to stifle her urge to whimper, but she couldn't move now. They dithered, before they stepped fully into the room.

Now this was fear, but not the kind that had her in tears. Though her bosom heaved, there was a surge of excitement. _Oh gods._ It had been a while since she had gotten this excited. They were steady steps the gent took, their heaviness had gone, they were light, and sort of at a stroll. She didn't believe this individual was part of their game; this wasn't Sam, and she was sure Podrick didn't meander like that. So she did have a reason to be nervous, no one else was playing, and Sansa didn't want anybody else knowing they were playing.

 _Child bride of the King-_ they would say if anybody found out. She heard the wardrobe being opened rapidly, an unnecessary speed, this suggested they were antagonistic. Her mind crept back to Ramsay, he liked to dominate through prolonged agony and fear. She had chosen to hide in the very room he would do this to her. _She must be crazy._ But there had been a couple of minutes where she had just been thinking about the game she was playing, and not dwelling on it being Ramsay's room.

The seeker must have been studying her wedding dress, she didn't hear the wardrobe door close. The tension was killing her. _Either look around or leave._ She restrained the urge to rap her fingers. She couldn't even move her head fully to the side to study the shoes, or sigh at her predicament. _Go go go...go._ They swivelled, and she sensed their feet were pointing at her. They were still for an unprecedented amount of time, which told her immediately they were listening.

She didn't breathe. Terror of discovery made her chest ache; excitement played a huge role in this game- she could see that, now. In fact she recalled as a child it had been a great game. Despite the lack of fire in the room, she was starting to sweat all over, and the moist skin was picking up the dirt off the floor.

The person then walked towards the door promptly, as they did, she heard the clang of a scabbard and valyrian steel. Her breath hitched, and he stopped in the doorway and turned. Her hand was over her mouth at this point, to amend her error. He was good at being still, it was beautiful, but right now it set her teeth on edge. His leather creaked as he squatted, his scabbard made contact with floor. _Oh gods._ His bare hands made contact with the floor and she knew she was doomed, if she had not been saved by a bang of a door down the hall. Someone had dashed into the neighbouring room- and the King shot up and left. There was a load of clattering next door, and she knew that was a seeker on the roam. She strained to hear her husband confront the man doing the ruckus, luckily the door was still ajar so she heard mumblings of a short conversation.

The footsteps came down the hall, and she saw the black boots walk past the doorway and carry on into the depths of the castle. Her relief was short-lived when Podrick came in, she heard him talk to himself- motivating himself. Stay _hidden_. Well he was in on the game, but the whole point was _\- not to be found._ He went to the wardrobe and just as he opened it, someone made themselves known in the doorway, all she saw was a lady's skirt. "Podrick." That voice, she hadn't heard it in awhile...Agnes? _Can't be_... _why would she use that old disguise?_ She couldn't crawl out to take a peak. "Have you seen the Queen?" _Yes, that's definitely her,_ _oh hell, why has she gone back to this?_

"Agnes, where did you get to?- You've been gone for days."

She could detect a warm tone in Podrick's voice, she remembered Podrick didn't know the red witch and Agnes were the same person. Sansa stayed still and listened, and thought of nothing else, in case Melisandre picked up anything from her.

"Miss me, did you?" Her voice had a peculiar lilt.

Sansa watched the skirt sashay to the brown boot's of Podrick. "You abandoned your post, I was just curious." He said with mock disinterest, _it was strange how she could tell._

"I bet you're still curious." The lilt still not leaving her voice.

If only Sansa could see facial expressions, she couldn't tell if this was mock flirting or the real thing. She stared hopelessly at the feet.

"Kind of...Where did you go?"

Agnes did a little circuit of the front part of the room. "I had to visit my mother... she was very sick...it has been a dark few days for her...and me." She did a little sniffle. _Oh please._ Sansa rolled her eyes, she was sure she could be more convincing than that.

"Oh I am sorry."

Seriously, _he was buying into that?!_

"She is fine now." _That was short and sweet._

"Thank the gods."

"Yes..." She clearly didn't like that. _Not her gods, ey?_ "But it was a fright, I need a perk up."

"I bet it was...What?..." Podrick fizzled out as the lady stepped closer, so close she was almost standing on his toes. _Dear lords, what was she trying to do?_ Sansa heard the slop and smack of kissing. _Oh gods no_. Luckily Podrick jarred back. "What- no- we can't."

"But you can, you're curious what's under this gown, let me show you." She stepped forward and he jarred again.

"Not here...in this room." He began desperately. "...And the door!"

"Close the door, my sweet Pod."

"But..."

"Don't you like me...?" She fained sadness, Sansa envisioned a pout on Agnes's face.

Podrick made a move to the door. _That's right Podrick, get out while you still can!_ Sansa prayed, and to her dismay, he shut himself inside with her, the Queen heard the bolt slide across the door. _Oh dear oh dear._ She was trapped in a room with a canoodling couple. Podrick returned to the woman where it all started again. _What will she hear or see?- What if they found her under here, the humiliation._ She felt even warmer, as the sound of kissing and heavy breathing began. Suddenly the bed jolted above her, the springs protested, and so did she- mentally- _Gods no, not that, not that!_ She heard the rustle and pop of clothing and fasteners. _Yes, it will be that- typical._

"I should warn you...women tend to get quite noisy with me." He warned, eagerness rife in his voice.

"And you shall be too-"

"-We're in a castle." Sansa hoped this comment would terminate the frenzy.

"Stifle it." The witch was so demanding. _Damn it._

"Right."

"Me on top, or not at all...Give me some control." Agnes said brazenly. _That's peculiar._

She covered her ears when there was sudden pause after a little kafuffle, she knew what was coming. The bed started to creak and squeak, as it jolted above her. _Think about breakfast, think about horse riding..._ "Aaaaeee o aaa o aaa." Tiny bits of hay and feathers were starting to fall out of the mattress and onto the floor, some settled in her hair. _Piff_. Sansa grimly imagined this was probably what happened to this bed when she was raped, though she wasn't under it at the time. _Don't dwell on such things_. The noises that were reaching her eardrums through her hand mufflers were very different to what she normally associated with the act. No screaming, or sobbing- no strange horrid remarks, just heavy breathing and the occasional sigh. _They were probably being careful so they weren't heard in the castle...well they were certainly being heard here._ She pressed her ear to the floor, to try and see if she could hear someone else downstairs, to distract her from the-

"Gods Aggie..."

 _Oh shut up._ The Queen couldn't sing mother's mercy, it would stop them for sure, but the fact she hadn't revealed herself sooner was unusual- they would think she was some pervert spying on them. _Can you be a spy, if you could not see?_

Agnes was sounding a bit more pained as they went along, bouncing. Sansa felt the pain too, every thrust, every creak- as she lay on her front under the bed. Just like on her wedding night and most of the nights that followed. _Don't dwell, replace that memory with...this._ A game of hide and seek that had gone sour, she really wished her husband had found her under the bed earlier, to save her from this assault to the ears...and mind.

There was a terrific couple of sighs, which told her they were finished. They got up quickly, their feet firmly planting on the floor, Sansa panicked slightly as they retrieved their clothes from the floor, she inched across as a hand skirted close to the edge of the bed. _Eeeek_. A second of hell, followed by relief she had escaped discovery. Sansa lay her head on the boards. The two individuals didn't seem to speak, she saw the skirt sashay to the door, she believed Agnes had managed to dress first, she unbolted and opened the door.

"Gods Agnes...wait until I've dressed, close it I'm naked!" He whispered harshly.

"I'm sure her grace will do it on the way out."

Sansa was already frozen, she heard and felt the deafening silence. _Did she just...? No, of course not._ She stared at the feet, both were still, until a hand lifted a wolf pelt at the edge of the bed.

"Don't be shy, your grace, come out." _Oh my gods._ She remained still, going as red as a radish. Still in denial. It's a trick, they don't know you're here. She saw hair, as Agnes leant, Sansa recoiled as a upside down smug face leered at her. "Little dove."

She heard Podrick cuss. And with that horrible face watching her, she crawled out slowly, defeated and humiliated, snagging some threads of her dress and lightly bumping her head on the frame of the bed. _Ouch_. The humiliation, probably not as humiliated and hurt as Podrick right now, he was very naked- but he was trying to rectify that. She didn't look at him, as he fumbled. "Your grace...oh gods...I didn't mean to...I didn't know you-where the hell are my trousers?!"

The Queen kept her deathly stare on Agnes, whom smiled sweetly and left without further comment. She'd left a warzone, surely Podrick would know by now Agnes could not be trusted. "I'm sorry, Podrick." She eased, while he dithered by the bed, clutching at his clothes, she did a quick glance and turned away- still red as hell. "Oh my."

"Your grace...Oh hell, I'm sorry for not checking, we were in the middle of a game- and I...f'd up." His tone was almost suicidal, he hurriedly pulled his tunic over his head. "This won't happen again, I swear it, don't send me away...please your grace."

"-Enough." She heard him still, he was petrified. "Don't be scared, I saw nothing, it won't happen again-"

"-I promise-" From the corner of her eye he bobbed courteously.

The Queen could hear movement in the hall, and she knew that was Agnes coming back to gloat. "Get lost!" She turned to Podrick. "We shan't speak of this, and...for heaven's sake put your trousers on!" She turned to make her way to the door, and probably thump the witch in the hall. Just as she reached the door, her mouth went dry and her heart lodged in her throat, she was looking at the King who had just appeared in the doorway. "Jon..."

The King looked from one to the other, gormlessly, his face slack- devoid of any emotion, until it tensed into an angered brood, he channelled it into the space between as if bracing himself for a kill. _What- why?_ That was pure rage and betrayal she could see. _Oh gods, he didn't think..?_ She glanced at herself, she was ravaged looking, dirty, and Podrick was pulling up his trousers. _Oh seven hells_. She couldn't form a sentence, his face was paralyzing. "Jon...innocent, no...this isn't-" She heard a deep growl and he circumnavigated around her. She half expected a slap, but he made a bee-line for the squire, who put a shaky hand up in defence.

"No...Your grace!"

Jon grabbed him violently by the scruff, and dragged him out of the room with his trousers still half-way up his legs. Sansa pleaded desperately. "-Jon...he didn't...it's not what it looks like!" Poor Podrick was being fumbled down the hallway by the battle commander, he fell and Jon yanked him back up.

"Get up you little shit!" The King rumbled.

Sansa followed the kafuffle into the hall. "JON!...Listen!"

"-Your grace, I didn't do anything!" The squire tried, trying to pull up his trousers.

"-Shut the fuck up!"

Sansa caught up, and was pulling at Jon's shoulders, clawing at the leather and studding to get him to stop. "JON! Listen to me, listen to him!" He wasn't having any of it, he was shrugging her off, set in his ways. _Perhaps he would get around to her?_ "Husband listen, for the love of the gods!"

A servant materialized from a stairwell, and froze at the theatrics. The King blazed at them. "Fetch me a block!"

 _He was going to what?_! "Ignore that, he didn't mean it!" Sansa fired at the frightened servant. The servant remained frozen to the floor. They passed them and the three of them were bustling down the stairwell "JON!" Her grace continued, Podrick was trying to turn himself against the chest of the King, to reach for the Queen's aid. "He didn't do it- you bloody fool, you're being Stupid!" Just as they set foot through the door to the great hall, Sansa decided to use better tactics, she grabbed Jon by the hair harshly, and he started to slow, _finally_.

"Sansa, let go now, woman, I'm sorting this out now, I'll deal with you later." He breathed dangerously.

"Release him now!" She tugged at his mane, it was as effective as putting a knife to his throat, for he pushed Pod to the ground, and stood firm. Another servant came into her line of sight, appalled at what they were seeing. "Get out!" And they scarpered, passing Davos as they left. The advisor looked at them wide eyed. For a second it looked as if the Queen had taken The King prisoner, it was short-lived, the King swung around in close proximity snaring her, clutching her around the shoulders, she expected to be put into a headlock, but it was more like a violent embrace, she nearly ended up under him, with the force of it- but she stumbled to gain her footing, and succeeded.

"For fuck's sake what is going on?!" Davos spat, surging towards them. He passed the squire who was scrambling to his feet.

"It's a civil matter, good ser!" Sansa began, still tussling with her husband. They both looked like reluctant huggers at this point in the mayhem. "It can be del-"

"-Ser Davos there has been serious misunderstanding!" Podrick began, clutching at the side of the advisor's robes, when he returned his attention back to his King and Queen, he saw Jon had fought for dominance, and he was manhandling his wife back up the stairs from where they came. Sansa was reluctant to go back up there, so she grabbed the stones- and clung tight for dear life, as if she was hanging off a building. Her husband was carrying her around the middle, and pulled hard at the sudden resistance, he inclined to see what she was doing.

"Let go of the wall...let go, let go...LET GO!" He roared, pulling hard.

"Jon!" She exclaimed desperately. "I can explain everything in their presence- it's harmless! You're being stupid!" Something told her something awful would happen when they got out of Davos's sight. So she clung to the wall, until Davos caught up and was close enough so she could grab him. "Please Ser Davos!"

"Your graces, enough!" He didn't know whose side to be on, he needed to hear what they had to say.

"Stay out of this you! Like she said- this is a civil matter!" The King fumbled with her hands, to get her to release. "Let him go!" Jon's strong hands won, but she grabbed at the wall again- so his hand descended down her arm. Sansa made a whimper, not sure what he was doing, and his fingers suddenly dug into her armpit- he was tickling her. She cried out, but it was hardly a laugh, since she was panicked, but she certainly let go of the wall- and he was able to drag her up the stairs.


	23. Chapter 23

48 hours until the battle of the bastards- OHMYGEEERRRRD

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His hold on her was tight and firm, as he marched down the hall. "You're hurting me!"

"Oh I am sorry." Jon lacked sincerity. "You should have thought of that earlier, love!" He was as broad as ever. His foot swung out to kick open the door, and it clanged against the masonry, he had to put his leg out again to stop it rebounding into her, _she was surprised he didn't let it – as some sort of punishment._ "You're very lucky we're family, otherwise I would have you flogged." He murmured bitterly, her knees were rattling at the thought.

"No you wouldn't have...and I haven't done anything!"

"You don't know me, mi'girl." It was the lowest his voice had gone, but it was very intimate. She found herself swooning, and he mistook it for resistance, so the King used his whole body to steer and shove her back into the room, his sword hilt pressed against her buttocks and it roused her from her swoon with a yelp. He only let her go long enough for him to shut and bolt the door. _Oh gods._

She regained some focus, and scowled-"You're being stupi-" He surged forward and she unable to finish, as he gripped the back of her head, holding a hand full of her hair firmly, but not enough for it to hurt. _Perhaps she had grown thicker skin, or was it the fact she knew he could never be malicious?..Hopefully_. It was sort of like how she had handled him mere moments ago, it had been a necessary evil for her to commit. But what he was doing achieved nothing, except pull her head up so her neck was exposed. "You came in at the wrong moment, you saw nothing!" She said through her teeth. His face was so close, she couldn't read the emotion, but she could sense something. Jon was rattling, seething, and there was a faint smell of ale. The cold that had been around her exposed neck and jaw line was eliminated by his steaming breath. It tickled her into silence. But what was the purpose of all this, was he going to slit her throat or bite it?

"How was he?" He rasped, warming her face. "How well does he know this body?" His hand splayed across her stomach and she jumped.

She gave him a wild side eye, and summoned up all her strength-"You know nothing, Jon Sn-" He cocked her head and forced his mouth against hers, there was a collision of teeth and nose, and he tried to enveloped her lips with his. _This was an odd punishment!_ He was trying to instigate a kiss from her, trying to move her head against his mouth. She grumbled furiously against it, managing to push her will and new found strength against his chest and shoulders- they were like boulders. _But now wasn't the time to marvel and be in awe_. The Queen succeeded with her endeavour, separating them with a 'pop'. _Oh gods, those fierce eyes._ "You're breaking my one rule!" He was still pushing against the resistance she gave, so much so that her arms were shaking and would have wilted if he hadn't have given up and pushed off of her with ferocious growl that turned into-

"-FUUUUUUCK!" He roared exasperatedly at the room as he punched the air violently while lurching away from her, it was like some kind of battle cry and antagonistic dance, he then kicked a chair across the chamber. "Aarrgghh!" _He was so damn confusing, interrogating her with kisses._ CRASH – another chair hit the wall.

Her heart was hammering like the drums of war. Sansa wiped him from her mouth, she saw blood on the back of her hand. _Wild beast!_ "Can I explain?!..Now you've had your brute fun!" She sniped as he had, and she jarred as he turned, marching back towards her with intent.

"You broke a vow." He sought her body. "Now I have a rule for yer- fuck your rules, and just...fuck."

"Ooo no no no." The young Queen reversed, fretting over his oncoming hands. His firm body and armour then pushed flush against soft pliable flesh and velvet, crushing her breasts and forcing them up. "Argh- For heaven's sake, stop getting worked up!..Me and Podrick didn't-" He winded her by lifting her up as if they were doing a Volta. _Ooofph._ "Oh- you-We didn't do anything!" She saw he was whisking her over to the bed. "Jooon." She said in warning. "JON!" He chucked her onto the bed like cargo being loaded onto a wagon, she expected he would soon join her; either on top, or just at her legs. "Listen!"

"Why?" Her husband was panting, he was in his fight stance, getting ready to pounce. "-So I can listen to a crap excuse!" He was rocking back and forth about to leap. "You got curious...so you decided to play with his co-"

"-Jon! Don't you dare finish that sentence!" She snapped, she was on all fours, trying to untangle the sheets from her legs and petticoats. "I'm your wife!"

"That's right!" He pointed dangerously with a gleam in his eye. "You're my wife." And he beat his chest with his fist. "My wife!"

She gaped, he had passion- but this man was far too angry to _do anything good with it_. A random quote came to her head - _When a man's blood is up, anything with tits looks good-_ She hated that this came to her mind, _this wasn't a ruddy siege_! _Nor was she a slice of cake!_

Her fiery husband came at her with a face that could send armies running. _Oh heavens_ _I'm a slice of cake, a slice of bloody cake!_ Sansa pumped her foot at his chest armour to halt him and he recoiled long enough for her to scramble to the headboard, kicking sheets, pelts and blankets into a crumpled mess at the foot of the bed. "Let me explain- before you ravage me!" Her hands were up, staring at her husband like he was a wolf about to mount her. _Why would he mount someone he thought had committed adultery? What was wrong with him?_

A void was between them, she had inadvertently set up a perimeter, which strangely he was heeding to. _Catch your breath._

He retreated, but not far."Right...go on." He was pacing like a caged tiger at the foot of the bed. His nostrils were flared and eyes were nearly all black, this was the worst she had seen him. Her nipples hardened. _They should really light a fire, if they were going to be in here long._

She stared unblinking at him, her core knotting up. "What?" Her exhaustion made it come out as a croak, she grunted to shift it. "Enlighten you with the truth?- Now will you calm yourself?!"

He snarled, and she couldn't reverse since she was already against the head board, so she raised her chin indignantly. _He can't hurt you, he can only scare you. The worst he could do, wouldn't be the worst that has happened to her._

"Tell me what he did." He said with conviction. "Show me what he did!" Adamant he was going to endure a display and enactment.

 _-Of her betrayal? –Why?_ - _Did he think she had been attacked again?!_ – _Then why take it out on her?- Strange man_. "-You've got it all wron-"

"-And I'll better it." He announced, there was fine line between cold and heated eyes, he was right on the margin. There was no doubt these terms would be met, but Sansa believed it would just be to remark his territory, more than compete. _Seven hells- what did he expect?- Was she to recreate what someone else did?_ – _And he was going to do what...?_ He suddenly barked at her again."Come on!" Anger and something else enriched his voice. "And show me what you did." _That gave her the impression he didn't think she was attacked- he thought she had willingly participated, hence his anger directed at her._ "And I'll expect the same." The grinding teeth emphasized his ardour. "Right here, right now." It was the probing stare that had her at her wits end, but him removing his scabbard and main belt made her gulp. "But I don't expect to share again." It rumbled from deep within his chest. "Wife." The belt and sword clattered to the floor.

 _This was nothing to do with marriage vows and honour, this was to do with his needs._ "Oh so this is jealousy talking! I thought you were after a confession of adultery. Sorry Jon, no adultery took place. So don't get excited." She chided, she didn't know how she was able to speak, especially in that antagonising tone- _You're crazy._ "If you had listened before that neurotic display, you would have heard me say I hadn't."

She noted he was trying to get his breath back, and allowing what she said to sink in."-Oh I believed you hadn't when I saw you." He paced, without taking his hot sticky eyes off of her. "I was willing to defend your honour from that squire, thought he'd taken advantage, thought he had tried and was denied...Then you defended him!" His finger came up. "What am I supposed to think?"

 _Oh how sweet- defend her honour,_ she thought sardonically, but it didn't slacken the tension _._ "Don't assume, never assume." Sansa eased, shaking her head.

He straightened."Did he touch you?"

"No!"

"Did you... touch him?" That seemed to pain him more.

"No!"

"Sansa!" He barked sceptically.

"You're supposed to trust me!" Sansa retaliated with a voice full of earnest. "...Bastard!" It was an afterthought, but she shouldn't have said it.

But it had him biting the insides of his mouth and raging around the bed towards her, she shuffled down, ready to roll away, but he rolled her roughly back onto her back, a firm hand holding her down by the stomach. "Bastard, bastard am I?!" His face hard, and voice just. "It's down to that is it? Like your bloody mother!" She fixed him with a stare, bracing herself. "At the end of the day you'd rather have highborn squire than a bastard cock inside you!"

 _Crude._ She slapped him as hard as she could- it was a satisfying noise, and it sated her, giving her a surge of power, radiating in her bosom. _Somewhere her mother was clapping_. Despite the venom in her face, she felt she had done a great wrong. His head had jarred and nothing else, his face devoid of emotion, blinking off to the side- _perhaps he was in shock?_ _Maybe she had fixed him?_

Sansa slowly slipped away from under his hand and got off of the bed. _You have struck a King- Treason_. "Your grace." Her voice was shaking, she breathed and leant on the bed with both hands. _You shouldn't feel guilt_. "You!" And she sensed him look at her. "Think in my fragile state, I would dally with other men I hardly know, people that hardly know me, you think I would break a vow...for anything. Wait- not anything...curiosity, as you put it." She wasn't going to cry for herself, or for the _handsome_ King. She was breathing hard, his jealousy had done this, there was so much desire in his eyes- for a man betrayed. "You hate listening to me, you never listen to me... you have selective hearing, you want what you want, and you completely forget that I am always hurting. Always!"

"San-" His voice broke. "Sansa..." Jon's voice was soft, and it killed her.

"I've had a bastard cock inside me, remember?!" His wife rasped, she was unwavering. "I'm not prejudice, but right now I hate anything with a cock- can you blame me?"

The King's flushed face, became white- pale with sickness. He must have replayed the crude words, but she was sure his own words had repeated itself over and over in his head since the slap.

 _Bastard cock_. Sansa let herself crumple into a chair, the only chair he hadn't managed to kick over in jealousy. The young woman began to cry- meekly. She endured. "When will I forget?" He didn't say a word, but when she caught a glimpse of him through her waterlogged eyes, she saw him forlorn and ashamed, on his way to her tentatively.

"I don't know..." Jon said in a daze, and he swallowed, sucking up what was left of his pride. He was wounded. "I'm sorry, sweet wife." His face contorted, he was stifling a sob.

"Wife?" It sounded funny. "Sweet?"

Jon raised his hand, as if silently asking her not to mock him, _or not mock herself_. "I love you." He said after a moments thought.

She sniffled, her eyes wandering in thought. "That's very touching to hear."

He continued, almost desperately."I'm so fucking in love with you...no matter what happens, no matter what you do." He walked slowly over to his wife like she was a spooked horse. "I'll always be broody, I'll always be jealous- I'm a dangerous husband... I'm a dangerous entity, that came back after being killed...I just want to be Jon again." There was no passion left in his voice. "What's wrong with me?" He rasped sadly. "Where the fuck did all the honour go?"

Sansa heard it, and knew immediately it wasn't lost, she stared up at him sincerely. "You're trying." She husked through tears, and she reached for his hand, and kissed it. Her lips raked over the back of his hand, over callous knuckles. Jon watched, mesmerized, he wanted to get closer, so he squatted to be under her.

"Sweetheart." He looked up at her in awe- _she didn't know why- At this moment in time he probably_ _still_ _thought she had dallied._ Her voice was calmer. "Jon, I don't wish to pry in other people's affairs..."

He looked at her, his eyes pink- and curious with what she was going to say. "Hm."

"-But Podrick and Melisandre had a tryst in this very room, not me and Podrick." Finally.

"Melisandre?" He stared, and she actually noticed his pupils undilate. "With Podrick...are you serious?" A slow grimace formed and he combed his hair back awkwardly. "Fuck me."

She ignored _that_ , but nodded gravely at the first. "She had disguised herself as Agnes, she seduced him and they-"She tipped her head to the bed. "Minutes after you left the room."

Jon had been pensive, listening- guilt ridden, but he stalled to study her, darkly, and she felt naked under his gaze. _What now?_

"What were you doing in here then?" The question wasn't as harsh as his previous.

"Reprimanding them." She told a half truth, Melisandre had gotten away with it.

Her husband's finger came up to a hole that had formed in the shoulder of her dress, he was obviously drawing attention to her ravaged look. "No, when you said after I just left...the first time you mean...how did you know I was in there beforehand?"

The Queen realized her error, she had referred to the incident when he was snooping in the room. Sansa glanced at him fingering the hole of her dress, and at the same time she noticed her bodice was a little far south, she tugged it up so it hid her shift. It gave her time to prepare herself. "Err yes, your grace..."

He had that adorable gormless expression, followed by a moment of revelation. "You were under the bed, weren't you?" An agape smile snuck onto his features. "I felt your presence... and I didn't give it a second look. Fuck."

"-I know, you were about to look under the bed." She grimaced. "I was crammed under there." She tugged her brows up briefly. "Hence my state of dress."

He fingered the dirt on the dress absently, moving dangerous close to the bust. His insufferable mouth was partly open again. "Why were you under the bed?" He blinked his eyes up at her furtively.

"Good question..." That didn't help her case.

"Is it one I'm going to get a straight answer to, or is it one I'm going to have to spank out of you?" He rumbled, not faltering. _He would do it._

 _Don't smile at that!_ Incredulous was an understatement. "You wouldn't bloody dare, I am Queen in the North!" Sansa pointed at him so sharply he blinked, and for a moment she thought his lip had trembled with fear, until he laughed at her, he had tried so hard to stifle it by the looks of it. "Stop laughing at me, you imbecile!" _Damn how the hell was she going to say she was playing hide and seek now?_

He calmed himself down to a mocking smile. "So what's it gonna be?"

"..."

"Right." He made a sudden odd motion- it was enough to make her believe he was going to put her over his knee.

"-I was playing hide and seek!" The Queen announced indignantly.

Jon's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You..." He stalled to be pensive. "But Sam...was playing hide and seek." He narrowed his eyes playfully, and her face tinged. "I assumed he was playing with the kitchen staff's children...but it was you?!"

"It was Sam's idea, I really didn't want to." She bit her lip.

"Hm."

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The extension of this particular chapter will be in the next update, sorry to cut it off here.

A review would be nice.


	24. Chapter 24

_6x09 - Holy seven hells- Vengeance is sweet- my babies are home, and the next promo a kiss on the forehead. I just hope Petyr doesn't influence Sansa anymore, I hope to say she knows he can't be trusted, he killed her aunt and a man who helped her out of kings landing (this she is aware of) I think it might be fear that keeps her with him (It's established in books she knows he's dangerous. But I don't want petyr to put a wedge between her and Jon. I hate Georges and D &D masterplan of turning her into the new littlefinger._

* * *

"We should play sometime." Jon craftily suggested while they ascended their stairwell to the main bedchamber.

"No, after getting that little surprise I think I will pass up the opportunity." Her dress was wrecked, a new project loomed for her, on top of her story. "Anyway if you can sense my presence- you'd have an unfair advantage."

"Hm, I suppose, that's why I wandered back, I wanted to look under that bed again...and instead I found you and Podrick."

"Doing nothing!" She warned, so as to not start the argument again. "Anyway, that's the worst room to have done such things in..." She had already revealed this before they left the confines of _that chamber_.

"Which I'm sorry about, my love." They returned to the sanctuary of their chambers. "I didn't know." Jon said with unease, wanting to finish the argument. "It explains the white dress in the wardrobe, your wedding dress...it's a very nice dress."

"And it'll never see the light of day again." Sansa gave him a final sweep over glance before perching prettily on her hope chest to kick off her shoes. "Plus it's torn all the way down the back."

A sobering comment, that made her husband look very grave and pained. "I see." _It was good she was talking about it so casually_. He collapsed on the bed, spreading himself out with an exhausted sigh. "Can we just spend the rest of the day in here?" His wife was just about to answer, when – "Or our entire lives? Anything."

She contorted to look at him. "We really shouldn't." Sansa saw his hand at the end of the bed, rapping upon the sheets. She leant back off the hope chest, so her top half was lying on her bed. Her body lay along the length of his arm, and her head fit into the space above his shoulder. Sansa heard his chest rattle as she got comfortable. His hand moved to finger the side of her dress. Jon's head turned slightly to the side so he was nudging against the top of her head, he could smell her.

Sansa's hand came up enquiringly, quite close to his face- but it wasn't seeking him, she was investigating the warm moistness on her parting- that was due to him sniffing and exhaling on her crown. "You're like a dog."

"I like smelling things, I'm sure you have a few smells you like..." He waited, staring at the canopy- he hated that canopy- _he'd rather look at something else._ She didn't speak, so he filled the void with the actual question. "Do you have a favourite smell?- Like lemons, lemon cakes...?" He was thinking about her mouth latching onto his tummy like a leech, her tongue caressing his stomach, then dipping and swirling around his belly button. _Maybe the memory would reoccur to her as well?_ "Are you feeling peckish?"

"Not really no."

 _Figures._ He turned to her hair again, sniffing a little more carefully. "You're starting to smell like me, that, and roses." He commented followed by a satisfied hum. _Good._

"I smell like musk and leather?" He heard her melodic voice retort.

"Is that what I smell like to you?" It was a genuine query, and he wanted to know if it was a pleasant smell to her. She made no comment. He frowned. "Are you pissed?"

"I smell of piss?!" She misheard and was appalled, she sat up to get away from him.

"Nah yer' daft sod, I asked if you were angry with me." He tried to yank her back down, the side of his face was getting cold. "Seven hells Sansa, it's like you want to start a fight."

"Look who's talking." His wife lay back down, she shuffled to get back into her position. After a moments silence, he slowly- and by slowly- he intended to be subtle, he began brushing his beard against her head. "Now what are you doing?" She said.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"You were rubbing." She sighed. "You are... like a dog." Sansa repeated. "You just want everything to smell like you."

"Better than somebody else..."

She rolled her eyes- he was never going to let his first suspicion slip. She shuffled away so she could roll onto her side to look at him. "What about me, can I smell like myself?"

He stared up at her, smiling only with his eyes. "I want to smell like you." He used his index and middle finger to walk the gap between him and her, she watched it with apprehension- and it stopped just below her face. She blinked as it moved up to toy with her bottom lip. "And taste." He fingered it down and released, so it pinged back into position. "You taste like lemons."

Sansa didn't respond right away, _how do you reply to that?_ She couldn't even comprehend what he tasted like, she never actually savoured him- _oh wait_. "You..." She remembered. "Taste like ale, and copper."

Jon looked at her inquisitively. "That sounds...weird." He propped himself up on his side to be level with her. "This displeases you?"

"It isn't displeasing, or pleasing, it's just a...flavour of the day." Sansa countered, she didn't see the point of discussing tastes. "I'm sure if everybody didn't eat, they'd all taste the same, if they shared food, they'd taste the same. Kissing isn't about the taste."

He blinked. _What an odd conclusion_. "It is though really."

"No. It's about contact, and texture." She spoke like it was gospel, and she finalized. "You can work out a man's status, and chivalry from the feel of their kiss."

"And?" Jon added, hoping she would understand what he was asking.

She seemed to stare off to the side, evaluating. He waited on baited breath. "To plunder..." She was being careful. "-Is a clumsy way of kissing, it's forceful and... lowers a man's social standing." She put eloquently.

 _Phwoar so many words_. Jon tugged at his tunic huffily, trying to smarten himself up. "Aa...I see, I can take a hint, sweetheart." Not liking or agreeing with her evaluation of him. "I kiss like a poor man." The word bastard came to mind. _Just great_. "You realise that is a normal northern kiss." He pleaded his case. "We're not supposed to peck at each other like southern birds..." She acknowledged the word birds with discomfort, and he continued. "But devour, like wolves."

Sansa was absorbed, he could tell by her silence, and by that need to stare off into space pensively. "It's like you're scavenging for food in my mouth."

He laughed heartily. "Gods woman! You describe the slightest hints of passion as something ugly and obscene."

"That's because you think force equals passion." She had a lot of south in her, but she hoped it was her inner 'Tully'. "Whenever I caught mother and father kissing, they weren't like wolves."

"They didn't peck either." Jon added bluntly, falling back onto his back, he watched her think- she looked almost cocksure and arrogant, her hand that wasn't propping up her head, was curling a lock of her hair. It made his mouth wet, and eyes dry from prolonged staring. _Gods woman._ She was curling the long strand idly, looking very aristocratic and beautiful. He thought about that perfect face, becoming flushed, overwhelmed with desire. _Gods-_

"Kiss me, Sansa." He rasped, and the lock of hair fell from her finger. "Kiss me how you see fit." He was always hopeful. There might be a day she would do as she was asked without hesitation, or do on a whim, out of curiosity, or because she wanted to."I'll follow the one rule..."

She was probing him, and now he knew how it felt. _He felt naked_. Jon self consciously tugged his tunic again, and placed his hands either side of himself in complete submission. He heard her petticoats rustle as she inched closer, and his gullet clunked as he swallowed in angst. _This was happening_. He wasn't sure whether to remoisten his lips, or air dry them. _What would look more appealing to a woman?_

Her shadow loomed over him first, then his compliant wife. Sansa tucked her hair behind her ears, and he balled his fists up in the sheets to prevent himself untucking it. The king liked red hair, he wanted it in his face. He got her lemony breath instead. _Even better._ Jon noted she didn't wet her lips, there was a small chance they would fuse together, _which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world_. She descended and her lashes rested upon her cheeks. Her nose made contact first with his cheek, and finally her lips caressed his own curiously, and he automatically closed his eyes. Sansa's mouth barely opened, but wetly pinched his mouth as a whole, delicately raking- like she had done with his knuckles earlier. It was tentative and soft, like rose petals. He promised himself he wouldn't move his mouth, but that was forgotten, he parted his lips, and puckered ever so slightly, to work with her enveloping caresses. Her hand was under his chin, stroking his beard. _Bliss_. He felt her hair suddenly curtain his face, it had fallen from her ear. Jon would certainly smell of her now. _Sweet Sansa._ They breathed through their noses against each other's cheeks, flushing their faces.

This was a kiss, it was intimate, there was still a devouring aspect to it, just without the plundering. _Sansa might be on to something here._ He was just waiting for her to slip him the tongue, even if it was just the tip. The silence was finally broken by a little _smack click_ of a moist kiss, and the other kisses that followed. Warm and leisurely, soft and slow. He allowed her to do most of the work, he was the receiver, occasionally pinching her lip to remind her he wasn't dead.

Sansa's hand suddenly but gently descended down his neck. It smoothed over his leather collar, and over his chest cavity, which was rising and falling steadily. As it descended, Jon could feel the blood diverting down his body, _he was rising_. His breath stilted, and his chest spasmed. The pelvis started to fidget, and roll, his legs became restless. He felt her hand settle on his stomach- warming his belly through the leather. His knuckles were white around the crumpled up sheets, refraining from touching anything. _Mercy mercy._ Her hand was a tease, remaining low enough it could easily slip to his crotch, but high enough to not supply any of its heat to his...pillar. _Come on, down...down_. His hips were on the verge of bucking. He could easily lift her hand and place it where it was needed.

Meanwhile above the neck, Sansa was kissing him more confidently now, still no tongue had come out to play, but there was really no need, their faces were touching and she was tasting him- what more could he ask for? _Erm..._

The Queen was unaware of the dormant volcano in his trousers, it was probably best if he kept it that way. He just had to prevent himself from doing anything with it, sure he could probably bust a nut in his braies – _but_ _the servants will see it in his braies_ , _gods no!_ He couldn't spill it anywhere near his wife without her falling out with him. It was deemed unholy to spill the King's seed on the ground, so he couldn't stand up and finish himself off. He ceased moving his mouth and focused on willing his sword down. _Fighting, castle black, snow, Robb, Arya, Rickon, Bran._ Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. _Needle, Sam, Craster_. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. _Karl Tanner, Fooking Karl Tanner, Mormont, Longclaw, Ghost._ Kiss, kiss, kiss. _Lunch,_ _stew, gruel, Lemon cakes..._ That seemed to undo his work, he was rising again.

Sansa separated from him with a 'click', and his head nearly followed, mouth pursed and red, his eyes bloodshot. "Done." She said in her melodic voice, tucking a strand behind her ear. She appeared pleased with herself, until he smiled stiffly at her, and her responding smile wavered. "You didn't like it." She said it as if it was a confirmed fact, her hand dropping from her ear. "Too tame?"

"No, that-" His voice was none existent, he grunted. "That was good." He retorted looking at his bulge craftily. Sansa sat up higher, and he got worried she would see it, so he pushed himself up- he had severe arm ache, so it was quite a fete. Jon tried to get up from the bed quickly to make an escape. Soon as he set his foot on the floor he knew he was about to collapse in a heap, so he sat to disguise it, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Very good." He put his hands on his knees to brace himself. _Too much of a good thing._


	25. Chapter 25

Sansa saw little Jon running at full pelt through the trees, he wasn't laughing, he wasn't larking. Then she heard the hounds. _No!_ She bound after him, she got level with him moving through the trees, the boy tripped and fell on his front with an _oof._ He dug into the dirt as he scrambled up to keep running.

"Come on, lady!" He ran in a new direction, through thicker trees. There was a glow ahead of them, it was warm. But it could be anything, a threat holding a torch with pitch.

She protested about going towards it. _Might be danger, Jon!_ "Woaw woaw woooooo!" _You're a wolf, you idiot._

"Yeah I see it, let's go." Her little Jon was adamant to get to it.

"Woooaw wooo!" _No Noooo._ She pleaded, and it coaxed him to go faster towards the bright light source. It didn't get any closer, and they were tiring, well the boy was, she on the other hand- _or paw_ , could, but she didn't want to go to the light. It resembled fire, and they were in a forest, surrounded by flammable trees. She stared at it with her night vision, it loomed large and ready to consume them all.

Wolf!Sansa looked back at Jon. Gone. _Crap- Where was he?_ Her dream had dissolved him. She circled, dizzying herself. "Wooooo."

"Aaaarrggghhhh!"

Sansa charged back in panic, sniffing wildly. She was probably galloping like a horse in desperation to be with him. She was nearing the starting point of her dream, and still no sign of the little boy."JOOOOON!" It came out as an aggressive yelp, but she was using a wolf's mouth, so it was a literal anguish ridden howl. She dashed through the forest of darkness, until she came to the clearing she normally found young Jon at the beginning of their adventures. He wasn't there, so she sniffed, that was all she could do. This was taking too long, she was wandering through wilderness and not a trace of him remained."JOOOON?! " She recalled an earlier dream with her younger brother, _try him_. "BRAAN?!"

' _Saaansaaa!'_

 _Oh my gods._ She ran in a new direction, she yelped as twigs caught her ears, as she proceeded rapidly through the undergrowth and low level branches. She saw someone and skidded, and moved at it. "BRAN!" _Woooow_. He wasn't facing her, he was stooped over something, on approach she saw another boy on the ground, covered in cuts and welts- they'd been attacked, and they appeared lifeless. She smelled the blood and... musk."NOOOOOO!"

* * *

Sansa woke up drenched in sweat, panting like a wolf. She rolled her eyes to gather herself, as she mopped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her nightie. Upon inspection, she found she was the only one in bed, and it was the middle of the night. She lurched at the revelation. _What the..?_ The bed was cold next to her."Jon?"

No response. The Queen swung her legs over the side rapidly, and searched for her chamber shoes. She slipped into them – but had to cock her leg up to get her heels into _the damn things._ Sansa lit her bedside candle, and took a gander into the other chamber, before venturing into the castle. She moved at a quick pace to keep warm, and to hopefully find her husband quicker.

Sansa walked into the main hall, it was eerie at night; no servants, and the candelabras weren't lit, so the stones were cast with a deathly blue light from the moon. The only warm light came from her lonesome candle, and her shadow moved across the wall in the opposite direction to where she was walking. It frightened her, it was like seeing her mother's ghost. Finally she saw some signs of life, and she got a tiny bit excited, until she made out a guard pacing in the corridor outside the main hall. "Your grace." He bobbed his head. She noted he held a spear, and indoors- she gave it a shrewd glance. "Just in case, your grace." He added, noticing her interest, and she smiled grimly.

She stalled, not sure whether to ask a guard about the whereabouts of her husband. _Surely a Queen would know where the King was at this hour?_ She left the guard to his duties and moved down the hall, she caught a gleam of something low down, she froze and let out a murmur of surprise. She brought her candle up closer to it, and it was moving towards her, two red orbs. Ghost gracefully trotted towards her.

"Hello sweetling."She cooed as he smiled up at her. It wasn't really a smile, but a pant- but the fact he had chosen to open his mouth upon her speaking, told her it was a friendly gesture. Sansa scratched behind his furry white ears, before making a request. "Where's Jon?- Show me Jon." He turned away from her and trotted past her, and she hoped he understood. The Queen followed regardless, though he could have been just been going back to bed.

Sansa was going back up the hall, towards the guard- they smiled at her and the wolf as they dithered past. _It was probably obvious now she was looking for someone._ She was back in the main hall, walking between the long tables. Catelyn's ghost wandered past again, and Ghost veered off to the side, to a side entrance. Sansa prospered, but Ghost sat in front of it. _And now it ends._ She spotted a small trace of light coming under the door, and proceeded through it. Looking back, she noted Ghost was remaining where he was. This told her he was forbidden to go in this area, they were close to the kitchens after all. The corridor she was in she hardly used, it was for servants. The warm light she saw was coming from the doorway at the bottom- it was ominous and reminded her of her dream. But in this case, she felt compelled to go towards it. Sansa got to the gap in the door and peered in, not even bothering to open it further. She immediately saw her Jon's profile, wearing his Stark fur coat in a store cupboard browsing the shelves. She made herself known by creaking the door, and he glanced over without turning himself fully.

"Oh." His eyes regarded her warmly but briefly, before he returned his attention back to the shelves, he was obviously more interested in the food.

The young Queen walked between the worktops, finding a place for her candle. "Bit peckish are we?" She uttered, nearing the entrance to the pantry, the draft from it caught her hair and lifted it away from her face. "There must be a relatively large gap in here, a little too much ventilation."

"It's supposed to be like that." He commented, fiddling with stuff disdainfully. "Who do I have to kill to get something sweet?" There wasn't anything he desired, apart from the onions, but he seemed to be avoiding them for some reason. "Do they hide it all?"

"Yes." She said simply. "The keeper puts the valuable stuff in the locked pantry...I'm surprised they didn't take the cheese with them."Upon pointing at the cheese he had clearly missed, he reached for it. "I wouldn't say that's best for this time of night." She spied a burlap of apples, and snared one- and held it out for him to take. "Here."

His face inclined out of the darkness, he looked grateful. His callous hand sort her hand, the one that cupped the apple for him. Jon laid his hand over the top of her porcelain skin and navigated the fruit to his mouth with her hand. His eyes locked with hers as he bared his teeth. Chomp. Sansa blinked at the vibration she felt through her hand through the apple. _Erm_. Her husband drew back, crunching, looking absolutely lethal. _Who'd have thought someone could look dangerous eating an apple?_

 _Anyway_. She drew back, nervously chuckling to herself, still clutching the apple. "Not much else here." She noticed his candle was low. "How long have you been in here?"

He was sucking the apple remnants from around his teeth under his lips. "Just a...minute or two...I've only just got up."

"Me too." Sansa remained firm in the doorway, the room was small- and she always had an eerie feeling she was going to be shut in.

She could make out a grimace on his face. "Sorry...you must have heard me leave."

"No, I had a nightmare." She waved to dismiss his apology.

"And you were seeking comfort, were you?" Her husband turned around fully then and moved towards her side of the cupboard, a fairly innocent smile played on his face. "Bless you."

 _Oh._ Sansa saw he had  only his cropped braies on his legs underneath his Stark cloak, so the leather straps were going across bare toned chest. It was an odd look- but very... _captivating_. "Erm...You..." She had been staring at him, but pointed at the shelves to make it appear she was going to say something unrelated, but he followed her actual gaze, and shrugged.

"Couldn't be bothered." He said, then gave her a calculating once over. "That nightie is really see-through."

 _What?!_ Sansa glanced down, her hands coming up ready to cover herself. _No_ _it wasn't._

"Ha, made you look."

She huffed, and slapped the side of his pelts hard.

"Careful, you made this."

"And I can unmake it." She bartered smirking, and she forgot herself and bit into the apple, right next to his bite crater. "My best work, you look like a proper stark, an inspiring sight..." She swallowed and finally noticed that it was his apple. "Anyhow-what would you be without my special skills?"

He stared smugly at the fruit as if it were a binding contract. "Impotent."

The Queen gaped and slapped his coat again. "Don't be so crude!"

"You were being crude." Jon chimed, and she didn't understand.

"How was I being crude?"

His smile was fleeting, a dark look came to his eye. "You were devouring me."

"-Huh?"

"-With your eyes."

"I was not!" It was too late to spare her blushes, she backtracked, the room was poorly lit, so maybe he didn't notice. "Well...Anyone would take notice of such a peculiar sight, you look ridiculous."

"You said inspiring a second ago." He was creeping into her personal space. _She had one rule._

"I meant the cloak." She said with a condescending tone, and she spun around whipping him with her hair to leave him _to glower._ There was a noise she assumed was someone moving furniture upstairs, but when she looked around to query, Sansa discovered it was her husband growling in his throat. _She must have felt the cold, her nipples had hardened again_."Yes...I know...you're a dog." She maintained the condescending tone, and she abandoned the pantry. "I might make the pantry your new kennel, if you don't behave." Further internal growling, and she closed her mouth at the heart rending sound and sight. _Those eyes of his_. She was walking right into something that could lead to...a trip into darkness. When she humoured him, he got randy, when she angered him, he got randy. _Perhaps she should burst out crying, just to see if that made him randy?_ "That's not an invitation for naughtiness."

Jon's arms were up out of the cloak, he was resting his hands on the top of the pantry door frame, leaning lazily, but all the muscles on display were flexing, and she had the audacity to look _and devour_. _He knew what he was doing, what a swine_. Sansa felt a cuss word coming on, but huffed instead. "I shall leave you now to your gluttony." She chucked the apple towards him and he caught it just in time. The Queen exited the kitchen swiftly, forgetting her candle, and walking right into the darkness.

The corridor was cool, and her blushed cheeks welcomed it. _How do men know so much about their bodies?- Do they just flex in front of the mirror all day, do they compare biceps with other men in the taverns?_ She heard rapid footfalls behind her, and turned with a gasp. "Don't do that!"

Jon stopped, his cloak settling in place. "I was just catching up." He rumbled, his behaviour normal again. "Here, hold this."

She didn't know what she was reaching out for, and grasped something solid and moist in her hand, it had a bit of weight to it. "What the..?"

"Don't get excited, it's a spiced sausage."

 _Her cheeks tinged with the shame of assuming the worst_. Sansa could hardly see him in the dark, nor the sausage, and she doubted he could see her glaring at him. "Don't move quickly towards me, especially in the dark, and don't place... objects near me in the dark either." Something brushed at her leg. "No!" She gave him a fair warning.

"No?- No what?" She heard him retort, but the sound that followed was a snuffle of a direwolf. "Hey boy." Jon crooned, and that's when she realised Ghost had been at her heels and it was he who had brushed her leg. "Down, down, it's not for you." Her husband called, and she heard the tip tap of claws falling from a height, he'd been standing on his hind legs reaching for something. "Protect my sausage... and I'll guard the cheese." He muttered.

"Cheese?- Are you having a picnic?"

"Since you're awake, we are."

They shambled back through the hall, and up the main stairwell. Ghost was not far behind them, she heard his claws on the hard surface, they were comforting to hear. There were moments when she was not sure of a placement of a doorway, or if there was an extra step- she would stall, and Jon would bump into her. "Oh." And he lingered before he would back up and apologize. His chest was very warm against her back, and the final time he bumped her she got a crude image in her head. _Not something she would talk about, nor write down._

A hand maiden and foot soldier meandered in the hall, they became aware they were in the wrong place, and in the presence of the royals in their night attire, they awkwardly dipped to them and excused themselves. "Err...Goodnight, your graces."

Their bedchambers were warm, someone had stoked their fire. She heard Jon order Ghost to stay outside, and he bolted the door, and Sansa took it upon herself to light all the candelabras. _Eating so late at night, ridiculous! They would never get back to sleep_. Jon marched past and threw down the wheel of cheese with a bang. "Careful." She could finally see Jon fully in the light of their chamber, in all his... _bare chested glory_. She snuffed out her candle lighter, then witnessed him hacking at the cheese with a knife, and failing to get a good cut. "Aren't you a master swordsman?" She taunted and then noticed something glaringly obvious. "Take the muslin off first, Jon."

The King sniggered. "Gods, what a mug I am." He said sheepishly, pulling the cloth off the cheese. He was still heavy handed with the knife, sawing at the wheel like it were bone. "Come on!" The table was squeaking with the effort- it reminded her of the bedding ritual she had the misfortune of hearing.

"Gently, people will hear!" She imagined people stopping in their tracks, or waking up to listen.

"Let them." He said gruffly. "Nearly...nearly." _Squeak creak squeak creak_. "I'm making a hash of this." Jon then made a strange grunting noise while sawing, and when Sansa wafted at him to shush him- he shot her a shrewd look. "What?...Oh." A lopsided smile slipped onto his features, and he took a breath and did a guttural noise, all the while squeaking the table.

 _She certainly wasn't expecting that_. Sansa covered her mouth in angst, _as if that would stop that infernal racket_

"You might as well join in...let them know it's you and not a mistress." Jon was fairly subdued making this request, he had to gauge her reaction, _he'd fucked up in the past being too playful._ "Come on...give me your best moan." His voice had a persuasive and cheery lilt, but kept it devoid of sexual connotations.

Her face had become a radish behind her hand, she looked warily at the door. _She wasn't the type to moan, not ever, at anything._ It wasn't just not knowing what she sounded like, for she knew it would purely be an imitation, but actually opening her mouth and allowing such a noise to come out was embarrassing, and unqueenly. Her hand slipped from her face, and she chose not to look at him while making her first attempt. Jon stopped squeaking for a moment, eager to hear, that added a bit more pressure to her performance. "Ooooo." _Terrible_. It was a meek attempt at being sensual, it was half-hearted and devoid of any real enjoyment. It was more like she had spotted something nice on a market stall. Her face was still red with embarrassment. _Never again!_ Then Jon laughed at her. _Oh hush._

"Come on now, love, you can do better than that." He started jolting the table again. _Probably to drown out her abysmal attempt at acting._

She was incredulous. _She had tried._ Sansa stared at the boards vibrating by his feet. "Mmmmh." She hummed with a very grimacy expression. When Jon shook his head, she finally snapped. "I don't know what you expect to hear! I can't do it, I'm rubbish at verbalizing enjoyment." _There was nothing to enjoy._

"Look, just pretend you're eating the best lemon cake in all of Westeros with all the trimmings, vocalize the feeling you get when you eat it." Jon released the table with a thump. "Give it a go."

Sansa sighed reluctantly. She imagined eating, in fact, she began to mime eating a slice of cake. _Tasty lemony cake, sweet and rich-_ "Oh gods!" She gasped. " Uh-Mmmmmhhhh..." She stretched it out with a long breathy murmur as if she was about to swallow a large piece. "Mmmmhh." She fake swallowed and rubbed her tummy. "That was so good." She said with mock out of breath disbelief. Her husband looked a little gormless, and her condescending voice returned. "How was that?"

"Seven hells, your love of lemon cake amazes me." He rasped, and he should have stopped there-"You must have been havin' a silent orgasm eating it off my belly."

Sansa felt her own belly do a somersault at the memory, but one word was lost on her. "Orgasm?"

"Yeah." Jon replied naturally, and the penny finally dropped when she didn't nod or agree. "Wait- you don't..?" Sansa was as blank as parchment, it endeared him. "Aw my lo-." But not for long. "That can't be right?- How'd you know about...without...but the sound you just made?" Jon collapsed into a chair. "Bloody hell."


	26. Chapter 26

I hope there are no spelling errors, I can imagine I'll be editing it after posting. **Can someone tell me if I should change the rating?**

* * *

"A great topic for discussion, a lengthy discussion..." Jon had abandoned the picnic.

 _But surely he could eat and talk?_ Sansa was dithering in the centre of the chamber, it was her turn to look gormless. Especially if Jon was going to sit there languorously, legs spread, patting one of his knees to try and coax her into sitting on him. _By him, she meant the knee and nothing else._ "What?"

 _Pat pat pat._

She was incensed, she felt like she was about to be scolded or lectured. "I'm alright over here, thank you, I'm not some child."And she perched on the bed.

"No you certainly aren't...shall I join you on the bed?"

"No." The Queen stood and marched over before he had the chance to make a move. He wistfully watched her approach, the teeth grinding disconcerted her. _Mercy_. Sansa stood over him anxiously, calculating the point of this gesture. But she still stepped between his legs and lowered herself onto his knee, with her side and elbow touching his chest. A noise escaped her when he suddenly jolted her by bouncing his knee. "Ohu." His arm came up and around to support her back, it was a firm hold, enough for Sansa to know it was safe, when his hand moved slightly, she knew it was to stroke her.

"There...cosy." Jon rumbled and he saw her gulp, and she tried to hum in agreement. "Don't be scared, it's only me, sweetheart."

"Is this your way of explaining a made up word?" She noted the cheese wheel was wrecked _, which was the same state her nerves were in_. "Probably a word invented by men to describe a woman's happi-"

"-Stop right there, it's a real word, and as it so happens; men get them too, they get them all the time, as do the women, and so will you."Jon bounced her again, and she put a hand to his shoulder, in case he boinged her off. "So you know vaguely what it is?"

"From what I've gathered." From her sigh of resignation, he noted she didn't seem bothered. "It's an involuntary noise."

 _Oh how sweet_. Jon sucked in his lips to stifle a snigger. "The noise..."He was staring down into her lap, looking a little bit higher was difficult since he could see the curve of her bust."-Is part of it, but it's the feeling you get with it. That's the important part." _The breasts were a good size for such a young woman._ "I can only assume it feels the same way as it does for a man."

"Never assume, Jon snow."

And he bounced her again in retaliation, and she expelled that surprised noise- the one he was starting to enjoy. _That, and the bouncy boobs._ "Then why do they sound like they enjoy it?" It was a little cocksure of him, but he received a very degrading look. _He knew nothing, apparently._

Sansa bit her lip, something was about to burst from her. She looked annoyed, and Jon wanted to stroke that frown away. "It's no fun being breached." Sansa began, her voice on the verge of being melodramatic. "It's painful, it's awkward, uncomfortable, and it insults me...no, assaults me, it's about as joyous as falling off a horse!"

 _He was expecting her to ask more about the word_. Jon recoiled slightly, but returned to get a good grip on her. "You know, it's not supposed to be like... _that_." He winced as if he had said a foul word.

"Well it was. At least one woman in this world can be honest about it." She said defensively. "And even if it was some other way- I can't fain interest like some women." Her arms folded rapidly before her. "I suppose some women have to master the art of fain-ing, I don't see the point."

He looked at her perplexed; though when he was perplexed, he looked gormless. "Right..." Clearly not understanding her meaning. He narrowed his eyes sceptically. "Explain what you mean, love, I don't follow your drift."

"Which part?"

"To fain something...?" He rumbled, looking at her darkly as if she had revealed a foul plot.

"Women pretend to enjoy breaching." She summed it up quite well- she thought. "That's why they make those weird noises, they are trying to hide their pain by matching the gentleman's noises." She said matter-of-factly. "Because men are the only ones who enjoy it." She jabbed at him as if she had made a valid point.

"Says who?"

 _She knew he would complain._ Sansa straightened her back. "Men go to brothels, they will always go to brothels- because they enjoy it so much. Women don't go to brothels." She clasped her hands on her lap. "If the ladies enjoyed it...wouldn't they seek it?"

"That's cause..." It hung in the air like a noose. "They just...don't."

 _That wasn't a good argument._ "Yes, because they don't feel the need to, it isn't recreational for them."

"They have better restraint." The King wasn't penetrating this wall of determination that Sansa had built, _because he chose piss poor come backs._ "Women can suppress their urges." He tried to explain. "Some men can suppress their urges..." He suddenly dropped the arm that was around her back- as if trying to prove a point. "It takes practice and skill." He gave a little nod.

 _Now he was blowing his own trumpet._ The Queen scoffed at him, refolding her arms. "Women are designed not to enjoy it."

"That's a crock of shit."

She gasped, and he did a mock snarl in retort. Sansa unfolded her arms, to clasp her hands prettily in her lap, again- she just didn't know what to do with her hands. "You hate the truth, now you know all women feel pain."

"That's cause they're doing it wrong!" His tone was that of a pre-adolescent boy in protest.

"Maybe the men are doing it wrong?" Sansa shrugged.

Jon began to brood, studying her face from under his curls with calculation. "Maybe that's why they go to brothels?.. To get practice." He grumbled, then shook it off. "-But that's not the point I was going to make." He gathered himself for a blow. "What...Ramsay-" It pained him. "- _Did_...wasn't the real thing."

Sansa did a loud inhale, preparing herself for a trip down to the darkness. "It seemed pretty real to me." That suggested to him that was her final remark. _No more, no more._

And he shook his head, his arm snuck to her back again. "He didn't love you...that's what made it not real. He was doing it for other reasons."

"Power, dominance... _heirs_."

"Yes." There was no disputing that. "And I'm sorry, he has tainted a very good thing." He looked mad, and he calmed himself- he did that by bouncing her again, and she gripped him tightly. "Orgasms are like... the bookends of the ritual, particularly the end." He felt up the length of her spine, and she moved with it- as if it was sensitive. "And it's no good if it's just the man getting them, I think it's a little selfish for a man to hog all the..."He waved his hand in front of her, hoping she would fill in the blanks. "-Feeling."

"Yes, they should share the feel of the pain."

"An orgasm isn't pain!" He said testily, rubbing his beard. _Don't kick any chairs._ _"_ It's like a very good ache- that explodes..."

"The men explode, I know this, they explode alright." She stated rather awkwardly. "Women don't expel anything, so they have no need to explode, they're clean."

"No that's different...that the men's-" _Ejaculation_. He didn't want to use the actual words, he rapped irritably on the table, before soldiering on. "Women have the sensation of pure bliss without...expelling anything, well they do...expel some stuff." _Fuck._ "They sort of contract around the man's-"

"-How do you know all this?" Sansa looked at him shrewdly. "Is this in a book?"

 _Sweet girl._ "No Sansa, it's common knowledge."

"Told amongst men?" She was sharp.

The King looked off to the side. _This was a trap, a trap to prove that men make all the rules and tell the stories._ "No, women talk about it too."

"I've never heard about it, I wouldn't dream of talking about it, and women don't approach me with the subject." Sansa was adamant.

"That's 'cause you're a lady." He said fondly, but his mind was on a predicament on whether he was going to tell his wife about 'his first time' with Ygritte. "I also know from...witnessing a woman having an orgasm." He bit the inside of his cheek.

His wife looked very serious, and she shifted uncomfortably on his knee. "You have?"

For a second he thought she was going to ask, how, when, and who- and to whether he was a virgin? But he saw something play on her mind before she spoke.

"How do you know she wasn't in discomfort, and she wasn't pretending?" _Men don't understand the pain._ "I can imagine a lot of women wish they were completely numb down there." Her husband's hand, the one he reserved for rapping on the table, or gesturing, suddenly dropped onto her lap, dangerously close to her flower, his thumb very close to grazing her mound. _Erm_.

"Are you numb down there?"

 _How forward of him._ The Queen stared at the hand dangerously, or more so- as if it were dangerous. "No, unfortunately." The hand remained, and she squeezed her legs shut, Jon obviously felt the change and brought his hand back to the table.

"You have to want it, in order to get an orgasm, you need a build up, and it has to be a painless and comfortable build up. When you're uptight- everything literally tightens." His hand did a clenching motion. Jon found himself picturing Ramsay over his wife, and it took him out of his explanation and the positives he was going to make. _Shit_. "When it tightens, I assume it makes every time feel like your first time." He looked at her in query, wanting to know if he was right, and she simply nodded. "The only way to compensate this, is to-" He didn't know what to call it. "Tickle, play, and canoodle." He said thoughtfully. "It defuses the tension, and makes everything..." He grunted, she was paying close attention to him. "Slippery." Jon added quickly.

"Unstable and awkward?" She was reading it as a metaphor for haphazardness.

"No I meant, literally slippery, women have stuff that-"He was getting embarrassed, the blood rushed to his face- _the best place for it, at the moment._ "Basically women have..." Jon was no maester. "Special fluid, just like men." _Just say pre-cum._ Jon bounced her again, to get her a little bit away from his crotch, clearing his throat to draw any attention away from anything unusual. "It allows for-" _Efficient fucking._ "-Err... easier painless-." _Fucking._ "-Breaching." It's easier talking to men about such things, you can cuss and get as graphic as you want. _Perhaps he should have Tormund come up and explain it to the Queen?_ "Have you ever..." Sansa stared at him with a mixture of horror and apprehension. "-Had a really slimy feeling...down-." He indicated downwards with his head, and waited.

"No."

"Moistness?"

"No."

Jon wondered if that was a lie, or she just never had because she didn't get excited. Ramsay probably took her when she was dry."Right." He then conveyed something with interest, it was right in front of him. "What about hardened nipples?"

"No." She was staring into space, supposedly disinterested.

He fixated on the things that had betrayed her. "Really?" It probably didn't mean anything, but he didn't understand why she would lie over something so natural- and was happening right at that moment, _surely she knew he could see?_ He realised he could fondle them, to draw attention to the fact they were there, or teach her how useful they were, when it came to the pre-ritual of love making. _Love making? You're such a girl._ His mouth had become very wet, and he wiped at his mouth. "Anyway, it's up to you what, and when you want to learn." _Stop looking at them._ He nudged her up and off his knee, and she stood in surprise. Jon didn't let her go straight away, he held her poised by the side of his chair. "Sansa." He stroked her side, and motioned towards her hand. "We're good, aren't we?" He managed to manoeuvre her to face him full on in front of his chair, and snare her other hand. "No trips into darkness..?"

"Only in my dreams, they're all in my story." She smiled sadly. "You'll see, I'm nearly finished."

Her husband just nodded, processing every feature on her face; the moles, the angle of her nose, and her cupid's bow. _Sweet lemon flavoured Sansa_. He brought his arms around her rear and pulled her in, to hug her about the hip. The side of his face flush against her nightie, he tipped his head to look up at her.

The Queen had to touch his face, that sweet innocent face of his, she fingered his forehead and closed his eyes. Her fingers moved over his brow and lightly over his lid. He did a hard exhale and it rippled the stomach of her nightie. _That tickled._ His lips pursed to the side, and he sneakily kissed her belly. Her stomach contracted and he hummed, pushing himself down...down. _Where's he going?_ She knew, he was getting close, he was breathing on it, she could feel it through the fabric, and then he kissed it. _Odd_. Lightly at first as a test, and then he kissed her mound hard. _Oh- that was low, and that definitely tickled._ Her stomach contracted violently as he tipped his head and kissed under, right on her flower, hard enough to moisten her nightie. "Ooh." That was loud, and the shuddery breath that followed made him look up at her darkly- his eyes were nearly black, and his mouth obscured by her mound, he was under, breathing her in. The fabric was wet with steam and spit, after a moment of staring into those eyes, she suddenly felt his tongue come out and poke into the cotton, to try and skim under her- "Uuh!." Sansa rapidly stumbled back in surprise, Jon had to let go, or else he would have been dragged out of his chair.

"Woaw easy!" He spoke to her like a spooked horse again, his hands were up in defence- but reaching out to soothe her. The blackness had left his eye. "Alright!- I should have warned you I was going to do that." He rasped, trying to talk her out of fleeing. The Queen was holding herself slightly bent up as if cowering from a strike. "Sweetheart." He soothed, his eyes were very apologetic.

"Erm...I'm fine." _Clearly she wasn't_. She swallowed, trying to remain calm. _He touched her with his tongue_. "Let's pretend that didn't happen." Her knees were knocking together as her lower half shook. _She could still feel it._ Sansa looked to Jon for an explanation, but he just looked deflated, she found she had to put him at ease _\- for some reason_. "I'm fine." She tucked her hair behind her ear, insecurely. "That wasn't the worst thing in the world." She straightened, and shuffled unsteadily to the bed. Sansa felt the prickle of breast against her nightie, not to mention a lot of moisture...down there. She felt everywhere was extremely sensitive, she concealed all, under the sheets after she climbed into bed.

Jon was bracing himself on his knees, like he was exhausted.

"Jon?"

"Hm?" He peered over at her, as if in a state of shock.

"Maybe you should lay off your picnic." She fidgeted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. _She could still feel the tongue- gods!_ She looked over at the door. "Get Ghost in here, he'll calm us, and let's just sleep."

It took him 5 minutes to leave that chair and do her bidding. Jon's breaths were shallow, and she noticed he kept nudging his braies, tugging at them, and checking they were in place.


	27. Chapter 27

Jon woke up feeling groggy. _Oh dear._ He looked about him to remember where he was, he rolled over, and winced at the sight of his empty bed. _She never got up before him, ever._ A snout appeared over the mattress horizon, near his face, followed by an entire direwolf's head- and it tongued his face. Jon spluttered and spat. "Aaa- Pluur that's enough, I can wash myself." He suddenly got a spicy smell in his nostrils and wiped what he believed were remnants of chives and peppercorns from his moistened face, he looked to the table- _the sausage was missing_. "You thieving bugger...that were mine, I'm the bloody alpha!"

There was no reason to remain in bed, so he got up. When he opened the door to peer out, he saw a squire- _Shit._ They looked tentative and eager to please- _he couldn't stand it_. "Erm- Fetch me a pale of water." He didn't like setting on servants, squires on the other hand... _nah he didn't like picking on them either- only for training though_. "If you don't mind, thank you." Luckily it wasn't Podrick, or else he would have felt guilty.

His routine was a little different that morning, no wife sleeping in bed, so no curvy lump under the sheet, or mass of red hair on the pillow. _Sigh_. It was odd washing and dressing in that very chamber, he normally did his ablutions in the separate chamber. Jon allowed a squire to dither about him, which was rare. The King left his room before allowing his squire to do up his doublet. _He wasn't a child, he could do that himself._ He walked and buckled, opening his eyes, ears and nose for any trace of his wife. He made it all the way to the courtyard without running into her or spying her gliding the halls, or perched on any of the benches.

Davos trudged towards him through the churned up yard. "Morning, your grace!"

"Yes." _It was._ Jon peered around suspiciously at people doing their normal daily routines. "Had any ravens back?"

"Not the usual, the wall has been silent. I wouldn't be worried, not yet anyway...But-" Davos was reading the King's pout. "-Something wrong?"

Jon lifted and dropped his sword back in his scabbard, and shrugged. "No, not really, just normal...and quiet, very quiet."

The advisor saw that shifty look again, but read it as his guard being up. He remembered what he had to say. "Ah-We've had a white raven."

"Sounds about right, I have felt the cold." And he wasn't just referring to the climate. "No doubt the dead will come with it." He meandered to the gate, and the older gent followed, he saw his King do a full turn after getting out of the battlements. "Any reason the gates are open?"

"Sansa went out riding."

Jon stared hard, almost sceptic he had heard it correctly, first because he had called her by name so informally, and second, she didn't actually enjoy riding, and third-"...And you let her." It wasn't a question, more of a peeved statement.

"She's only circling the battlements, your grace, I didn't see the harm."The advisor walked right into the deep snow, past the perimeter. "I can see hoof prints in the snow, she has indeed been circling."

The King looked up and down the castle walls as if waiting for her to materialize. "It's dangerous." He saw nothing but birds on the horizon. "Was she alone?"

"Podrick was with her."

Jon did a pained wince, footing some of the snow with his boot. "An elopement, perhaps?" He said fairly grimly, for a joke. _Perhaps he had took a step too far last night?- So she's escaped Winterfell for the second time._ It felt like a quiet safe kind of morning.

 _First his northern kisses were too rough and plundery, and now it seems his lord's kiss was off the table as well._ _And now she was spending the morning with another man. She needed a soppy boy to engage her._ He looked out at the vast wintery wonderland. _Sansa used to call it an enchantment as a child._ It endeared him now as it did in the past _._ Davos just caught the end of his smile, and mirrored it.

"Don't be daft, your grace, you know she wouldn't elope."

"Yes, I know. But right now she's..." Jon pouted at the snow.

"...She's annoyed with you?" His advisor queried, unsure.

"What...did she say something?" He sounded a little uneasy.

"No, no." Davos shrugged. "She didn't say anything, apart from; saddle my horse, let's go for a ride- I won't be long, I'll just be around by the battlements." _Well that wasn't nothing._

Jon returned his gaze to the beautiful landscape, expecting a fair damsel atop a white horse to emerge. _No such luck_. "Maybe I should do the same, I haven't ridden in a few days." He strode back into Winterfell, with the intent of mounting his horse and riding after his wife. It didn't take too long, he was riding past Davos within a minute of announcing his intentions. Galloping over the snow around the side of the battlements. Jon rode his steed gently at first, scanning the grounds for red, then settled on following the prints in the snow, they were going into the wood. _Which certainly was not circling the battlements._ He yanked sharply at his reins and sprinted his horse into the trees, ducking branches upon approach. He slowed to a trot when he saw the red he craved, amongst the trees.

He saw his Sansa ripping bark off a tree, while the squire was gathering twigs. _It doesn't appear to be a tryst._ They stalled when they heard him coming, and with good reason too, _anyone could be in these woods_. He dismounted speedily, when he was about 15ft away, and he descended into the undergrowth with a thud, and crossed the distance to be in front of her sooner rather than later. "Wife." His wife smiled at him, it was a simple pleasant smile, not elated nor sad, but it didn't extend to her cheeks fully. "You shouldn't come all the way out 'ere, love, it's not safe." He said, merely glancing at the squire he had tackled the other day. "Pod." He dipped his head in acknowledgement at the squire- not really wanting to converse or apologize.

She of course noticed."Pod is trained, he'll make a good knight someday." That was a hint, a blatant one- and Jon returned her crafty look.

* * *

Several minutes earlier.

Sansa trudged through the undergrowth. "I think that's a cedar." She pointed at the nearest tree. "If not, it looks like the type I'm looking for." She began to shred it of its bark. "Good for string and rope making."

"Yes, your grace."Podrick started kicking at the undergrowth. "But any wood is good for figure making."

"Yes, but make sure the twigs are neat and...pretty looking." The Queen had standards. She smiled as he scoured the ground. While he was busying himself- _perhaps he would be willing to talk?_ "Is everything alright with you?"

He stepped on a twig. "Your grace?"

She swivelled to meet him. "Are - you - alright?" She emphasized, so he would get her drift.

His cheeks tinged and he grunted. "Absolutely." He outed that very quickly, and returned to the earth. _He probably wanted it to swallow him whole._

Sansa bit her lip. _He's coped with humiliation quite well_ , _Good._ Her mind wondered from Melisandre and Pod, to herself and Jon – as it always did. _Oh dear._ _She felt a tongue tickling her delicateness_ , and she braced herself against the tree. _Abs and biceps underneath wolf pelts, flexing_. She blasted condensation into the air from her wet warm mouth. _Wet, slippery, and warm._ It felt like she was about to wilt and keel over into the undergrowth, but she clutched at the tree, hugging it with her gloved hands.

"Your grace?!" She heard her squire clamber over brambles to get to her.

"I'm fine." She warned, flinging her hand up. "Lost my balance." She wrapped her cloak about her as she straightened with indignation. "My first smell of nature in days." _She had had musk and leather up a nose since forever._

"Shall we go back?"

"No, I'm a Stark- I fair well in the cold." She flapped her robe.

"But still, you might be in a delicate condition- you should rest, your grace."

 _What now?_ "What do you mean...delicate condit-" They both stared, and her smile was fleeting. "I suppose it's good everybody thinks I'm carrying an issue." It was a sweet notion, if not a little romantic, but of course- it wasn't true. "Do I look different, too you?"

Podrick raised his hands defensively, still clutching twigs. "No, your grace- well-" He hesitated, and she cocked her brow at him. _Go on._ "-You looked flushed...and you're making a prayer wheel." He gestured to the twigs meekly.

"A prayer wheel, is a prayer wheel- there is a war coming, you know?"

The squire bobbed his head. "Yes, your grace." He looked crafty as he returned to his work.

She lingered on him, her mind crept to a very obvious answer to his curiosity, the castle had heard The King and herself's mock consummation. _She heard the table in her room squeaking and creaking_. Sansa let out a single bark, and her assistant looked at her quizzically. "Twigs, pod, more twigs." She flapped at him, and he continued obediently.

The Queen opened her robe a little to reach for the bark again, she ripped at it. _She got an image of Jon ripping her shift apart and attacking her milky white flesh._ She stalled as she tucked the bark away, and did a fairly huge sigh, it sounded bored, but she was anything but. Sansa mind was very busy, _if only it was busy thinking of more ladylike pursuits._ She ripped more bark off, in longer strips, they were fibrous and strong. _Like the cords that lace up men's breeches._ "Gods!" She announced, annoyed with herself.

"My lady- err -my Queen?" She heard the boy's tentative voice again.

"Oh, I... split the seam of my gloves, I'm fine." She smiled grimly at the squire, who had horded a load of twigs. _He had been busy, he probably couldn't wait for a break_. "What do squires do when they aren't squiring?" Her voice had a curious lilt to it, and she tipped her head waiting for a response. _Now she was recalling Jon thrashing a squire,_ but it seemed to merge with Jon defeating Ramsay.

Podrick frowned at her. "Sleep and eat..."He shrugged, _did she expect more?_ "Wash our own clothes...?" He shrugged. "Just live basically."

"Do you drink at the tavern?"

"Yes, of course." He stalled, she was staring at him. "We drink." He had to clarify, and she found this funny. "Taverns are for drinking with friends, your grace. When women talk over their embroidery, men talk over ale."

The Queen nodded. "Of course." But she wasn't done. _Brace yourself_. She very nearly didn't ask. "Was _that_ your first time?- When you were with Agnes?"

He dropped some of the twigs, and he stared at her feet. "My my...first...Agnes?" _Bless him_. "No, well that was our first time together..." He said shiftily, trying to recollect the twigs. "But not _my_ first time."

"I see." She fiddled with the bark in her mitts. "Was your..." _Why oh why?_ "First time...in a brothel?" _Don't make eye contact._

"Erm, I suppose it was...I was rewarded for my services with Tyrion-"

"-With Tyrion?!" _She didn't realise Tyrion liked men._

"-No! Your grace- He paid a year's salary for saving his life, to a brothel for me to have..." It was if he was going to be open about it, but his eyes flickered to her as if remembering she was a noble woman. "...Stuff done."

"Stuff done?"

Podrick straightened. "Seriously, your grace, I shall shame myself, and embarrass you further."

Sansa had to be subtle, _how was she going to worm her way to the answer she required? How the seven hells was she to inquire about such things, without sounding like she was giving an invitation, or suggesting she partook in such things?- Let alone have an interest._ She looked to the heavens for guidance. "Did you do anything unusual?"

The squire blinked. "Unusual?"

"Yes." She bit her lip. _This was excruciating._

"They did some stuff...to me" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "They were very...flexible." He blinked at his choice in words. "And noisy."

 _Gods._

Every muscle in his face was tense."And I did lots of things...to them." It looked as if he was about to lay face down in the dirt. _Shame Shame Shame._

Sansa began pulling bark off the other side of the tree, in order to hide her face. "Did they...enjoy that?"

"I think so, like I said- they were...noisy."

 _She heard her husband's grunting ringing in her ears._ "Could they pretend to like it, the women?"

"They could, paid women- would." He said sheepishly.

"I see."

"Except, they wouldn't take the money."

Sansa peered around the tree. "Excuse me?" Her face was probably still red, but she didn't care. "Was it counterfeit?"

"No, they said, they would have let me do what I did... as a reward for them, so I got it for free." He shrugged, with a coy smile on his face.

She gaped at him. "Gods."

"Yes." That was a _'I know.'_

"Gods." She said with more emphasis, and she paused her very active trail of thought. _What had he done?_ She noted the squire was beating himself up on what he had told her. "Erm...sorry for embarrassing you with this interrogation, I just...had to know if there was such a thing as..." _Dammit, she couldn't remember the word._ She clicked-"An organsam."

"An organsam?.." Podrick stared, his face was pensive. "Right." She saw him smile and shrug, not even attempting to correct her. _So she must have got it right._

Sansa suddenly leapt, gaining confidence. "Oh- that was it!" Remembering something else. "Where is the weirdest place you have kissed a woman?"

Podrick was confounded, he scratched his head. "Under a table?"

Sansa wafted at him. "No! Where on the body?"

He was horrified, getting very flustered. "Erm...Should you be asking such things?"

"Probably not." Sansa smiled warily- _wait, he didn't think..?_ "Oh Pod, I'm not asking you to do anything!" She had to make that clear, putting her hands on her hips. "This is for philosophical reasons. Now answer the question!"

Podrick nearly dropped all of the twigs. "Erm." He adjusted his grip of his stack. "I kissed... the peach." He looked to the earth. "They seemed-" and cleared his throat. "-To like that."

"Peach?"

Podrick looked like he was losing the will to live, and he carelessly and swiftly pointed at his crotch. "But a woman's."

 _So it was a normal and common place practice, it wasn't a weird thing!_ "People touch places like that with their mouths?- Men are willing to put their mouths on that." Her voice changed pitch half-way through. "The peach, why is it a peach?"

He shrugged. "They say that's what they look like from the front." He knew he was completely out of line divulging such information to a noble woman. "Men just like peaches...I guess." He pretended to be interested in the twigs he was holding. "If women can kiss delicate areas, then men can do it too." He still didn't look at her. He need not worry- she was avoiding his eye as well. _Why would a woman willingly kiss a man's genitalia?_

"Tree...I must collect bark!" She pointed at the tree divert away from the conversation. "Lots of bark, lots of string." She was starting to enjoy shredding, she was getting good strips off. It was soothing, but what certainly wasn't soothing, was the rumble and clap of hoofs approaching them at speed. She looked up at the same time as Podrick.

Jon approached on his mount, he descended into their patch. _The peach kisser himself_. He looked massive when he was on a horse, very Kingly and... _alluring_ \- she supposed. But it was unnerving that he had come some urgently. _What news?_

He dismounted. Sansa found watching a man dismount his horse also had an alluring appeal. If not that, watching a man strut towards her very urgently had the same effect. She felt like falling backwards into the undergrowth and using him as a blanket. He rumbled- "Wife." He said it as if he had been saying it years. The corner of her lips curled, despite her misgivings about him that morning, this had endeared her. "You shouldn't come all the way out 'ere, love, it's not safe." She saw him spot her squire. "Pod." He dipped his head in acknowledgement. _Oh grow up, and say sorry._

"Pod is trained, he'll make a good knight someday." _That would be an ideal apology._ Her smirk was infectious, she saw it linger on his own mouth for some time, before sobering.

"In due time." His hand snuck to her forearm. "But first, can I ask why you are brutalizing that tree?"

She tracked his eye."Making string." Sansa toyed with the strips, and he surveyed the area, in his wolfish manner. _He had to have a bit of Stark in him, which was probably a lot more than her._

"I don't think that's a cedar."

"Still has good bark."

"You want good wood?" Jon asked.

Sansa didn't know why should found the question saucy, but she was sure it was all in his eyes. She continued regardless. "A firm and rigid wood but...pliable."

The corner of his mouth twitched. _She envisioned a tickly tongue behind that mouth._


	28. Chapter 28

The updates will slow down since I've caught up with myself. I'm now writing in advance by 1 chapter, but later chapters I have in bullet points and I write from them, soon as I get to that chapter. So when I post one, I'm probably only half way through the following chapter.

* * *

The King held out his arm for her, and she looped her arm through. They strolled like a newly courting couple through the woods alone, _with a squire towing 3 horses, and sack full of kindling._ Her grip changed during their trip to the outskirts of the wood, she found her hand squeezing his upper arm, like it were a loaf of bread- but of course it was nothing like bread- his arm was too hard and unyielding. Jon looked at what she was doing, it couldn't be ignored, but she stopped when he held his arm further out, as if giving her a chance to squeeze the whole arm. "Did you want to try the other one?" He smirked.

Sansa withdrew. "I was feeling for how many layers you had on. You've forgotten your wolf pelts, you must be cold." She was good at fibbing.

"The lord's fire is within me." He husked, feeding her arm back through the loop of his arm. They sniggered, it had become a joke to them.

"You'll need it, winter is here." Davos had told her about the raven.

"Father promised, didn't he?" Further sniggering.

Her happiness was short-lived. "Does the dead thrive on this climate?" She asked earnestly, the pace slowed considerably, enough that their hips had stopped bumping.

"Yes, but I've never seen any in the south." He saw her pained expression "But not even going south would save us. Winter comes for everyone." His honesty was bitter, and it left the air even colder. "I have yet to see them break through stone walls though."

"Don't they ride giant spiders, surely they can climb?"

Jon's face split with a toothless smile, his face creased like her father's used to, he was close to laughter. "I've never seen 'em. But maybe old nan was onto something?" He clicked his jaw. "I didn't think you took in old nan's stories, you never seemed interested."

"Those stories are stories- you know I'm obsessed with tales, she would tell them to the others and I would hear them." Winterfell emerged from the trees. "Arya liked to relay them to me to scare me."

"And me." Jon admitted slyly. "But I was the master at scaring people."

"I remember, you were the ghost of Winterfell." She smirked knowingly, and Jon came to a halt and swivelled to be in front of her, to bar her passing. _Oh boy._

"How'd you know that?" He was sceptic, but playful.

Sansa tried to get him to walk, so she tugged his sleeve. "Well, you didn't deny it. So now I know for certain, come on." She indicated to the path ahead, but he stood firm in the ferns and the roots.

"I was a very convincing ghost, and very accurate representation of the real thing."

"There are no ghosts." She shook her head, _she was no fool_. "Only you. You left a trail of flour from the kitchens to the crypt." Her tone was heavily influenced by her cockiness. "I knew it were you, your shoes farted flour for a week afterwards."

He barked into the air. "Favourite thing to ever come out of your mouth; farted flour!" The only time his rasp left his voice was when he laughed, boyish and unabashed. He once again grabbed her hand to feed it through his arm, the chuckle remained- as he lead her up a raised bit in the undergrowth that finally took them out of the woods, and onto a plain stretch that led right up to the battlements. "Writing has really brightened your vocabulary."

Sansa wasn't sure how to take that, it sounded like he was calling her illiterate or dull before taking it up. "That's through research of things I've never considered, though I found the most intriguing things I've learnt, weren't in books."

He inclined his head to coax her to explain, but she was surprisingly quiet. "Like what for instance?" It was burning in him.

There were so many words she could use, but she chose one. "Misbehaviours..." It was quick, and all too revealing, and Jon just stared at her very darkly, his mouth twitched.

"Hm." He focused on the path ahead, physically, and metaphorically. "I take it you mean...unladylike things." He began grinding his teeth, but Sansa reached out and cupped his jaw- her hand pressing on bristle, he stopped and looked at her as if she had slapped him.

"You'll wear your teeth out, my love." She said, and it was poignant- she hardly ever said 'my love' so openly and warmly. He still looked surprised, but his cheeks became a posy pink. _She had too much power, she just needed to learn how to use it_. Her husband's eye flicked to something over her shoulder and he turned his head back to the battlements to sever the contact.

"If only Podrick wasn't here." He muttered quietly, and Sansa didn't look, so as not to make it obvious.

She knew what he was thinking. "That would be very unseemly, your grace. We're out in the open, in full view of the castle."

"Prying eyes stop you, do they?- What's your excuse when we are in the privacy of our own chamber?" He still had his playful tone, but the Queen misread it as annoyance, she came to an abrupt halt shy of the gate, she gestured for Podrick to carry on in without them, and he walked past with the horses. Jon stuttered to a stop.

"There are some things I have to get used to." Sansa began once Podrick was out of earshot, and her husband stood like he was training again. "Like sharing someone's bed, pain, anguish, being completely...unfamiliar with the concept of intimacy."

"-You're better than you think." He countered.

"-I'm not doing anything!"

"-You don't have to!" Jon exclaimed, it went straight through her like a knife.

"-Is that supposed to be sweet, or endear me?!" She posed, and her gormless husband had the ' _Oh shit'_ look. "-I want to do something, for the love of the gods!" She rasped, and for a second she sounded like her mother. Her hand flew up to her forehead and she turned away, Jon was on her tentatively, he assumed she was crying. "Space!" She snapped, and he recoiled like she had caught fire.

"Sansa, how am I supposed to act, if I can't comfort like a husband?!" Jon tried after a moment of stifling silence, he fidgeted looking over into the yard. "You want me to be gentle and less rough, but you don't want me to...touch you anyway." He dipped his voice, because he realised the guards on the battlements might hear him. "But now you are saying you want to participate?- Great, participate." He made it sound like a command.

"Try and focus on the fact that maybe, your best tactic-" She stalled when she saw him rolling his eyes. "Or is this another bit of information you are going to ignore?!" This stopped him from shrugging her off. "Maybe your best tactic is not to try and gain access to me." The cold air got to her teeth. "Or to try and coax me to let you...in." Her cheeks flushed, the cold had dried her mouth, so she rolled her tongue about."But to wait for me to ask or... do it myself." Her whisper was harsh and fierce. "At least, to begin with." That had a hopeful lilt to it, well Jon heard it that way. It was a moment that warranted a kiss, but neither moved, especially Jon- through fear of her biting his head off.

He grumbled to clear his throat. "Well...This is quite a predicament." He found himself saying, he wasn't sure whom it was for though. They dithered awkwardly at the gate. "What if...?" He began and she stared daggers at him. "What if _I_ asked?..I never just asked, just hinted." He heard her scoff at him. "Alright, I'm a little forward. I mean, there are some things..." Sansa still had that unyielding look in her eye. _Gods._ "-Some things you've done that have been exceptional- could they be repeated?" Jon felt himself reversing into the castle, as if he was going to prepare for siege, from the angry woman. "Or not."

She followed him in, and continued to walk away from her – flee, but he never looked frightened. "Wait a minute." He came to a squelching halt, and turned to her, he looked very open, and vulnerable. "You can ask me, but ask me nicely." His lips curled at that. "But don't hold your breath, I can still refuse." And she heard the gates close behind them, in an ominous fashion.

* * *

The Queen looked down on the yard at her husband from the platform, he was toying with some daggers, moodily. She wasn't sure what he was trying to do, he was either trying to spin them, or juggle them. It looked very good and fluid, until one flew out of his hand unceremoniously and landed in a barrel. He looked about him and then retrieved it, she watched him stand on his toes, and double over, into the barrel. He had little legs, she thought, but she imagined the buttocks under that clothing were... _outstanding._ She pondered on whether there was another word for buttocks-that shared a name with a fruit. _What fruit looks like that?_ _Surely Peaches have a bum resemblance-_

"-Ooo Sansa, get a chamber, why don't you?!" Sam said suddenly, this snared the Queen's attention.

"What?" Sansa asked incredulously, he had said it with a ludicrous voice. "What do you mean _get a chamber_?" She repeated in his tone. "I have plenty of chambers!"

Sam laughed. "Yes, but please use one..." His smile faded when he realised she didn't understand- also he had addressed a Queen so informally. "Your grace... it's merely an expression." His grin was infectious, he was a fool, but a trustworthy one at that.

"What's the expression for?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Is this one of your games, I'm not playing one of your games, Sam."

"Calm down, it's an expression of when someone witnesses someone being a little heated, or affectionate with someone." Sansa blinked at him. "...Well, if you saw a servant staring intently at another servant, you would assume they would want to copulate, so you tell them, use a room for privacy, or get a chamber for just the two of them." The Queen remained staring at Sam as if he had given her unfortunate news. "Well, it isn't that funny I suppose."

She grimaced. "I've heard better, but why were you using it on me?"

"I think you know why." And the man left her to stew in her _naughtiness_.

She grumbled like a wolf, and when she brought her eyes back to her target- her husband was gone. She heard a creak nearby and assumed he had managed to rush up to her, she turned and saw the red woman. "Oh...You."

"I heard things were getting... fruity." She smouldered, her brows were annoyingly suggestive.

Sansa was too irritated to blush. "Are you joking?..Did you pump it out of Podrick?" She walked off before the witch had time to answer, but she heard her clomping boots behind her. "What?"

Melisandre halted, and her red skirts settled. "Honesty is the key."

The Queen was non-plus. "Obvious." She withdrew indoors, but still heard the witch behind her. "What do you want with Podrick?" She said after letting it stew in her mind.

"Nothing." She shrugged, and the Queen found herself believing her- there was no edge to her voice, or cryptic response. "I'm a woman, I have needs."

 _What?_ The younger woman blinked at her as if she had cussed a vile word. "Needs? You're a woman."

"You're very naive, your grace." The witch played with her own skirt, a calculating smile on her face. "Though women don't openly talk about it comfortably, everybody has needs, even the noblest of us all. " The witch cast an eye about her. "You just have to be honest about it to the right people, it was sweet of you to ask Podrick."

Sansa felt tension in her face. "I didn't ask him for anything." _What was she suggesting?_

"You asked him questions, why can't you ask me questions?- I'm a lady after all." The red woman pouted like she was hurt.

 _Nope, I'm not falling for that._ "It's none of your business, that's why, and it's none of your business what I ask and to whom." Sansa waited. "Anything else?" When the Queen made to leave, then the witch decided at the last moment, so she had to stall with a huff, the witch was as bad as Petyr Baelish.

"I think you should discuss your dreams into darkness with your husband, your grace."


	29. Chapter 29

Sansa made to retreat to her chambers, to escape the red woman. She was lurking in every hall waiting for an audience with her. It was either the Queen, or the King she was after. She came into her room and immediately saw her husband on her chair, mumbling indiscriminately. _Oh_. He didn't look up or acknowledge her presence, not even when she closed the door. Her eyes flitted to the paperwork in his hands, then she caught a glimpse of her bare desk. "Jon, that's my story, it's not finished yet!"

He turned a page. Something didn't feel right, Jon didn't seem bothered by her, or what she had said, nor interested she was staring at him slightly irked. His mouth was moving, chuntering her text, like it was some ancient spell.

"Jon?" Sansa wary of the fact she had been in the room a minute and he just wasn't _there._ "Jon!" His head came up slowly, but his eyes were so surprised, and wet. It took her breath away. "What is it?" _Surely he wasn't moved by her story?_

He held the parchment up like it was a torch, his eyes unwavering in their wet determined glory. "This. Was this from your dreams?- Or a vision?" He looked at the parchment again to make sure. "Wasn't it?"

"Yes." She said unsure, but she had a strange feeling what he was going to say. "Yes, they are." She repeated with more certainty.

"They're mine too." He said, in a state of shock. _What?_ Jon shook his head as if he had heard her. "How is this possible?"

Sansa shook herself. "Wait, which part, all of it?- Or some variation?" Not quite believing the 'impossible', it was likely to be a coincidence.

He stood with speed, and she nearly fell back against the door, he gestured to the sheet, while approaching her like a storm. "I'm the little boy struggling in the dark woods, I see no distinct trees." He was staring wildly at her. "I cry...then I play- with sticks." He added with a bit of embarrassment. Sansa remained still, not sure what to make of it, but he seized her arms as if he was about to dance her across the room. "You write from the point of view of a wolf." The wet eyes seemed to be contagious at this point, she was tearing too. "Are you lady?!" He asked desperately.

 _Oh Gods_. She nodded fervently, and he still held her like he was about to dance her across the room. Sansa had to think-"That's incredib- what does it mean?" _Well she first thought of magic, but then she selfishly thought- that what privacy she had in her own mind, was now gone_. _Great!_ "How are you going inside my head at night?"

"Your head?" He released her, realising he was clutching her too tightly. "What about my head?" Jon was quite sharp.

"I think I had the wood dreams before you." She had a hint of condescending in her tone. But Jon laid his hands on her again, this time she was against the door- for she jarred away and into it by accident.

"Maybe, but I was always in that wood, Sansa." He was troubled. "Fleeing from hounds and... Alliser Thorne."

She frowned. "I don't know who that is?"

"No, sweet wife...He's the reason... I died." He said bitterly towards the end.

"The ring leader that you hung with the boy?- Or was Alliser the boy?" Sansa's voice was delicate, on the verge of breaking, and Jon slipped his hand to her face. _Space space space._

"It doesn't matter, in my mind they all converge into one entity." His voice drifted off into the darkness, and Sansa could do nothing but listen, and feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Ramsay is there too." She whispered as if the monster would hear. "His hounds are the ones that chase you...sometimes they too, converge into one." She felt guilty for dragging something he didn't know into the darkness. "So what is this place, is it a dream, or that other world you speak of so...fondly?" She said sardonically, and Jon actually gave a single bark, odd in the circumstances.

"Maybe that's a question for the witch?"

"No!" The Queen laid a hand on top of his. "This is our problem, our secret burden... we shall deal with this." It was uttered with so much conviction, Jon had to release so he didn't burn under her intense gaze.

He needed to pace badly. "How? If it's a real place- we need serious help, it might be hell or purgatory- a place we permanently go to when we die." It was like a joke to him, laughter was in his voice. "What if it doesn't go away, what if...it's permanent home for us at night? Because of what we've been through."

She did a prolonged stare, before breaking away from the door and going to sit on her hope chest. "If it's real...Bran's there too." _Oh gods, their brother might be dead._

"What?"

"You never saw him?" Sansa was surprised.

Jon shook his head, eyes remaining fixed on her. "Maybe we _weren't_ in the same place."

This somehow disappointed her, if her mind was actually private like she had initially wanted, then the burden was just hers- _she hated that_. Then it came to her in a flash. "Wait...I never saw Bran when you were about, when we were interacting. You must have just missed him." She remembered, and she needed to ask to make sure. "The last dream; we ran towards fire, then you attacked by something...?"

Jon plonked himself heavily on the bed, as if he had been given a death sentence. "Yes."

"Bran helped me find you, you looked to be mauled by something, what was it?" She twisted on her hope chest to see him sitting, looking very forlorn.

"I just felt pain, like I had been knifed- but with claws or talons...I thought it had been lady, well – You, I thought you that had attacked me." Jon tried, and Sansa shook her head. _Never._ "I thought we were getting close to that fire, and just reappeared else where...Then I was attacked." He looked pensive. "Bran stood over me?"

"Yes." She saw where his mind was going. "Bran didn't attack you, he found you, he wanted me to find you- and you know what else?"

"Hm?"

"He knew it was me, and not lady." _Bran was always quite bright, doesn't say much for Jon though._ "I don't know how, but something tells me he knows what's going on."

"Could he be dead?"

 _Damn he said it._ "No, I don't think so, I get the impression he's in... visitation." _She really didn't have a clue what she was talking about._ "He's hardly there, but he was in despair one time, I saw him crying, like you."

"Seven hells." He exclaimed, flopping back onto the bed. "I just wanted to worry about the white walkers and the realm." He uttered a couple of _fucks_ , and gave her a furtive side eye. "Sorry..." She thought for a moment he was apologizing for cussing, but- "...And us." _Oh._

"Us. Is the least of our worries." She clarified, and he didn't seem to take it that well.

"I hope that means, we have no worries, because we're good." That was full of insecurities.

"You think I don't care?" She got a little testy. "The world is falling apart around us, if there's any world left- we can try and live in it together- and play the part!" She got snappy towards the end.

"Alright!"

"But if we're going to die, we might as well not bother!"

He sat up at an inhuman speed, and she recoiled, he didn't even turn to face her. "Sansa, we may die, but first we'll live!" He was angry, and booming. The whole of the north probably heard that. "Seven hells!" He flopped violently back, agitated, and the room settled.

The day had started off so calm, yesterday was probably the worst day of their married lives, with the accusation of infidelity, and the awkward peach kissing incident. _She got a tingle, there_.

She looked back at him. Jon's hands were sweeping over his face, and pushing any stray locks to the back of his head. The Queen's eye roved a bit, before returning to his face. _It_ crept to her mind; a flicker of crudeness. Sansa's anxiety overruled her curiosity, she couldn't take the lead, and she panicked when someone else did. _Oh come on! You're a grown up now._ She felt an invisible hand shoving her ever so slightly forwards, enough to make her lurch and brace herself on the bed. It encouraged her to crawl, _and so she crawled, no, scampered_ off of her hope chest, and onto the bed towards her husband, the bed moved and Jon inclined towards the commotion. He half flinched as she descended on him. Jon's arms were already hovering off the bed from fiddling with his head, and despite being in grabbing range, he chose not to, for fear of scaring her away. His face was very surprised, but full of hope as she came over him. Her skirt rustled as she cocked her leg up and straddled his stomach. "Gods." Was all he uttered, as his face was suddenly curtained with red, and his wife lowered herself to capture his mouth.

It was better than last time, since she knew what she was doing. Practise. But a little different, his mouth was warmer and wetter, and it was moving a bit more enthusiastically this time around. It felt like he was kissing her, than the other way around. His mouth was a generous size, it fit hers nicely, caressing softly, and occasionally engulfing her moist lips- nipping them, devouring them. It was difficult to do the same thing back, it was unnatural to her. _Another thing to practise_. Sansa felt his hands circling her, then stroking her back. _Oh gods, her skin felt so sensitive- the hands were so welcome, if her back had been bare- she might have died_. She had her hands placed on either side of his head to stop herself crushing him. But her Jon didn't seem to care, he applied enough pressure to her back for her arms to wilt, and she fell onto him, chest to chest. _Ow_. Their teeth clinked, and there was a slight pause with them acknowledging the discomfort, fingers checking they hadn't chipped anything. _We're good_. They both shrugged it off and fused their lips together again with a murmur of relief _._ The noises he made Sansa could feel through her face. _Make them again._ She flicked out her tongue, teased his lip with it, before plundering on in. _It was odd._ A trickery manoeuvre which seemed to pay off, he purred. _Oh gods._ And it was returned, and he was inside her mouth in no time, tasting her. It was some kind of dance their tongues were doing, and music accompanied it; purring and hums.

His stomach was warm through her skirt, and the leather creaked under her. An overwhelming sense of sensitivity, enough to make her swoon, but she was on top- so she should feel inhumanly strong straddling him. Sansa felt fierce enough she could very well rip open his garments and rake over that skin. Maybe even lick. _But if she did that, he would do the same to her, how frightening_ \- though fear wasn't the first feeling that gripped her body. _Oh gods what was this?!_ His pelvis quaked behind her rear, it was bucking slowly. Those hands of his couldn't be ignored, they were descending down her back, and settled on her buttocks. _Oop_. She wasn't sure if it was a comfortable place to put them, they were only a couple of inches away from her... They then slid to either side of her, along the outer thighs. Sansa felt him push against them- driving her down his body. When she was sitting on the bulge of his crotch, she snared her mouth away, to look at him in the eye. _The storm was there._

 _Well she knew what was expected of her_. She was supposed to move her petticoats aside, pull her small clothes away, and unlace his breeches. _And allow herself to be breached...well...impale herself._ Jon looked expectant, with a smidge of fear – _nervous he had gone too far, probably. Damn his face._ She buried her own face in his neck, to hide from his pleading gaze. _This was her own fault, she had said she wanted to participate._

Jon's hand combed her hair off his face, and swept it to the side of her head that was furthest away. _Lovely soft fiery hair, that dresses could be spun from_. The King inclined his head back, and tried to turn her head, he wanted to see her pretty face, and get back to kissing that pretty mouth, he only managed to kiss her ear. He didn't mean to be impatient, he just felt inspired by her... _participation._ His hips continued to move of their own volition, trying to grind up into that skirt. It was a winter skirt with an extra couple of petticoats, so the roll of his hips got gradually sharper in order to generate sufficient friction against her person. _There was warmth there, he could tell, he wondered if it was from the build up?_ _He still needed to prepare her with a lord's kiss- oh gods, he could not lie- he wanted the taste, and to elicit strange noises from her._ Jon's hands fisted the thick material of her skirt. _Seven hells, that was a lot of skirt._ It acted as a chastity belt for her womanhood, he wanted to shred the fabric away. _He always wanted to tear off a silk dress, bad idea, just shift it._ He felt her bestow a kiss on his neck.

Sansa knew she wasn't in her darkness, for it was just the shadow of Jon's neck. She was still very conscious and inhaling his musk, listening to his ragged little breaths. She was taking the ministrations very well, his thrusting was abrupt, but blunt and dry. It didn't hurt, and since she couldn't see what was happening, she wasn't getting embarrassed, or feeling any shame. _You have to look up sometime._... _When he's finished...Finished? When will that be?- When he comes?_ Sansa had horrible memories, ones she wished to forget. _What if he sounded the same, what if the smell was the same?_ She felt his hands were roving, but not to the bad places. She planted a kiss on his neck.

 _Fffffrriiiiip!_ The sound of fabric being torn. _She was there, she was there_.

Sansa stood on her paws in the middle of the dark wood.


	30. Chapter 30

_Oh...for crying out loud! Why why why?! Mother of the gods?!_ The lady wolf spun in a circle, a little lethargic from her trip. To go from regulated breathing, to wolf pants made her chest hurt. That was a quick descent into the darkness, she literally fell onto her paws, nearly breaking all claws.

 _Perhaps it is good thing she wanted to get back?_ Though Sansa believed it was the scary woods that made her want to leave. It was no safe haven, not anymore, not with the fire and the creatures in the dark. _But this was her own fault, she had decided to sift through old memories._ But she had managed to push them back, but they fell out of the closet of her mind when she heard the tearing. She had assumed it was her brain literally tearing apart, but then she realised it was her skirt, she got a quick image of Ramsay over her, and the coldness that reached her legs afterwards. That was when she passed out. _God knows what's happening back in Winterfell._

The Queen envisioned Jon manoeuvring her into a better position, like a rag doll. Before giving her a month's worth of... loving. For some strange debauched reason -she found it funny, _in a twisted depressing kind of way- Boy, had she lost it!_ She rested her head on her paws in a sulk. _Ramsay had ruined everything, including her mind- especially her mind._ Sansa thought back to the canoodling, she knew in her heart she was completely alright with kissing, in fact she associated the act of kissing, with Jon, _and beards_. She would probably never kiss a man that didn't have a beard. _What if Jon shaved?_ She brushed her cheek absently, toying with the idea of kissing Jon without beard. _Nope._ _Men with beards were more trustworthy._ And considering that every man that has been horrible to her has been beardless; Joffrey, Ramsay,Pety- _oh wait he had a little beard, right? It made little sense, he was occasionally nice, but all for a hidden purpose. Wait Cersei didn't have a beard - I rest my case!_

There was a rattle coming from the enclosure of trees, and when she shifted her gaze to it, she saw a growling hound coming out of the shadows. It didn't take her long to leave the clearing- she fled on paws to the other side of the forest. Wolves were faster than hounds, but their sound carried ahead of her. So she would panic, assuming they were gaining on her. _Never, they never got to her, if only she was this fast as a human_. Ramsay on the other hand did gain. He stood before her, snarling and she skidded to a halt, letting out a yelp of surprise.

"That's a good girl- that's what I like to hear." He looked demonic, with dog canines, and ice for eyes. "But what other noises can you make?" He whipped off his belt. _He wasn't going to rape her in wolf form, was he?_ He swung the belt like it was a chain and mace. _Oh_. Sansa didn't even wait to see what he was going for, she ran, towards the hounds. _She was bigger than them, she could handle them._ They lunged for her and she managed to sweep past unscathed. She ran a mile, before running through the thickest set of shadows she had ever encountered in the wood, not even her night vision could help her and she panicked, she believed she had gone blind. She ploughed into something solid, and sneezed- since it had knocked her snout. When Sansa pawed at the obstacle, she felt ice, it was tall, she stood on her hind legs and scratched, she could still hear the hounds behind her, so she ran the length of this wall of ice, trying to find a gap to slip through. There was none. This was _the wall_ , a place she hadn't dreamt of before, but she associated it with castle black, safety...and Jon. _Now she was thinking about kissing again, oh you stupid girl!_

"Psst!...Sansa, over here!"

The lady wolf looked down the wall, a door of ice had opened up 20 yards from her position, and she could make out a small boy holding it open. _Bran!_ She galloped, almost merrily to the opening. _Safe_. As she got to the door, his hand came to her scruff and he guided her into a hollow, which he then sealed behind them. Sansa clambered on him, standing on her hind legs to lick his face. She had almost forgot he was a cripple, when she first dreamt of him, it hadn't cross her mind, because this was how she always remembered him. She was overcome, because she knew it was actually him- _most likely- after all this time,_ and normally seeing meant she was about to wake. _But hopefully they would have time to talk._

"Woooaw woooaw grrrrrrrrroooff!" _Oh wait, she was a wolf._

Bran raised his hand. "Sit."

 _How dare he?!_ She grumbled at him, puffing her whiskered cheeks.

"Sorry, I forgot." He winced at his gesture. "Use your voice." He was coaxing her, but to no avail.

"Wooaow." _Oh forget it, Bran, it's not going to happen._ She sat, despite her need to protest at being treated like a dog.

The boy found it funny, he smiled at her form. _It's not funny!_ "You can talk, you just don't want to talk. You've been holding your tongue so long, playing the part, over thinking- you've muted yourself. Honesty is key."

 _He was very insightful for such a young boy, too bad he was wrong, she spoke all the time, she didn't over think, never!_ "Woooaaaw woooaw grooooofff!" _She didn't need a lecture, she wanted to destroy the world they were in, and wake up as well._

"Your link to lady is remarkable, considering it's a severed connection." Bran began, he couldn't pace, because the space was so small, it was only a third of the size of her bedchamber. "You're pining to be a Stark again, you feel you've lost it. The last time you felt like a proper Stark was when you had a direwolf, and only when you had a direwolf. It appears lady is waiting for you too, it's why she lingers here."

 _Not true, I've always felt like a Stark...that's until I married, I why did he have to depress her with news her beloved wolf was stuck here!_ She grumbled at her little brother.

"It's funny how you're pining to be a Stark, when you are a Stark – a very southern summerish Stark that wanted to leave Winterfell...and be a Queen. But a Stark never-the-less."

He spoke like a man, but had the body of a boy. Then it occurred to her, her little brother would be a man now, she was just seeing him how she remembered, _or was it perhaps how he saw himself?_ She had missed him growing up. Sansa whined, and Bran believed it was because of what he had just said.

"Now now, Sansa, you can explore this world as the girl you are."

 _He does know she is a woman now, right?- Why would she want to stay here? Did he think she was dead? Oh my gods, was her brother actually dead? But where was Rickon, why wasn't Rickon with him?_ She was blinking up at him, it was all she could do, that, and grumble.

"Where's little Jon?"

 _Busy._ If only dogs could laugh.

"I suppose he's on patrol duty?"

 _Did he think Jon was still at the wall?_ _There were probably many other things Bran didn't know._ _Thank the gods wolves didn't blush_. She simply stared at him, tipping her head, letting him know she was listening, but being unable speak properly, silenced her.

"Our blood allows us to connect, this would have come in handy years ago." She managed to nod, and Bran was endeared to this. "This isn't the best place to meet, I hardly come here, so dark and murky. We can't be here too long, or else you'll have trouble leaving."

She gulped. _More bad news._ "Woooaaaw."

"I have a gift for moving between worlds, I take it you dream, to come here. I don't see why, you suffer here. Who is the man with the dogs?"

 _I can't speak, Bran._ And even if she could would she want to divulge that story again?

"Oh yes, right, you can't speak." Wincing again. "But at least I can talk to you. Listen, this is important." Sansa shifted, gathering herself. "Wherever you are, you need to get a message to Jon, in case I don't see him here again. I'm surprised he comes back, he always suffers here-"

 _Get to the point, brother._

"-This will be a shock to you, my special ability allows me to see into the past. I saw father as a boy and a young man, then I saw Lyanna..."

 _How in the world? – Her brother must be some kind of sorcerer._

"You are not going to believe this, Lyanna is Jon's mother..."

Sansa stared, she wondered if she could convey surprise? Except she wasn't fully surprised, she knew her husband was somehow connected to her father, he had either had a tryst with Ashara Dayne or some lowborn. Her other uncles she had considered could have fathered Jon- hence why Melisandre referred to Sansa as a cousin. But it was vital one parent had the blood of the dragon, or else Melisandre vision made no sense. _So how was it Lyanna?_

"-When Lyanna was kidnapped." The boy explained with excitement. _Before he revealed how, she knew_. "Rhaegar Targaryen impregnated her, Jon is a Targaryen!" He wiggled his fist with enthusiasm. "Jon's a King!"

She gaped, this she could do, with comic effect. _Rhaegar...Rhaeger?! Who else could it have been?!_ She clambered up the boy again, trying to mirror his enthusiasm. She suddenly felt a little uncomfortable and dropped back onto her front paws; _Lyanna was raped, Jon was a product of rape_. _Probably shouldn't pass on that bit of information_.

"I know it must be a shock, but wherever you are, try and go and tell Jon. If you can't... don't worry, sister, I'll get to him eventually. Soon as I get through the wall."

 _Jon had said he had ventured through the wall, but what was so important it required leaving the safety of the north, and how did he get through so easily?- I mean isn't the wall secure. Aren't there monsters on the other side?_

Sansa could hear the hounds rushing by the door along the wall, and both Bran and Sansa looked, acknowledging the proximity, but weren't afraid of what was there, they had missed them and where carrying on along the wall, their noise merging with the wind and the rustle of leaves. They didn't seem to matter, there was no imminent danger. Until they heard a cry of anguish a mile away, that gripped their hearts and squeezed. _Jon_. They both stood, Bran opened the passage and they ran straight into the trees, they needed to get to him before the hounds heard. The wolf was faster, she got right to the area where the commotion was at its loudest. _Nothing, was it a trick?-Had she fallen into one of Ramsay's traps._ She realised behind the cries there was a wafting, something beating against wind and branches, debris fell about her, and blood spotted her fur, she looked up. _Oh seven heavens._ Bran reached the clearing too, and looked straight up. "Oh gods!" He uttered, but Sansa's instinct was to yell up, but she couldn't. "Why is it doing that?"

Jon's legs were flailing through the canopy of trees, not alone though, there was a colossus dragon hovering, gripping him by the talons and trying to pull him up into the air through the branches. Jon was in considerable pain, his face was red and sweaty, his grimace stretched to the whole of his face, he thrashed and hit at the talons. He had quelled his cries, when he realised there were hounds in the woods, and he could see help in the form of his brother and Lady. "It's got me!"

Sansa could see he had clung to one of the branches, which was why the Dragon was having difficulty heaving him up to the heavens, it was squawking at his efforts. She started to jump up, on her hind quarters, to no avail. But stopped when she saw Bran climbing the tree. Sansa returned to looking at Jon. _Everything's going to be alright, Jon_.

The talons dug deep, blood was dripping to the forest floor. _Can someone really die in these dreams? Why are the dragons hurting Jon?_

Bran got level with Jon's branch and started to shimmy across, the wounded boy reached for him pleadingly. The beast squawked above them, and her brother flinched, scared it would spit fire at him. Sansa could hear the hounds descending on their clearing. _Hells._ She wanted to clamber up that tree, but she was no climber, not as a wolf, or as a human. Jon grabbed Bran as soon as they were close enough. "Don't panic, it can't hurt you here, and I doubt it will harm you in life. If he was going to eat you, he would have ripped you to shreds, or cooked you first!" She heard her brother exclaim to Jon, who was in too much pain to speak. "Don't fight it, embrace it!"

"Embrace pain, brother?! Argghh!" The talons were so tight. "These things wish me harm, I'm no Targaryen!"

"But you are!" Bran was full of conviction, and there was really no need. "You are the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar."

Jon stared at him through the grimace. "Through Lyanna...Rhaegar...?" Bran appeared perplexed by this rather pensive response, opposed to a surprised protest. Jon, looked down at Sansa. _Those eyes_. "See, I told you we were cousins!" She didn't have time to grumble up at him, or acknowledge Bran's bizarre expression, she had to flee the clearing upon seeing Ramsay running at her.

From a height above them, Bran clutched at Jon's face. "I'm your cousin too...But, why are you taking this so well?"

The boy was still trying put words together through wincing. "A witch... told me I was... part Targaryen." It was strange how Bran looked worse for wear, and very confused, since he thought he was delivering this news."Bran, focus on the Dragon!" The branch started to crack. "Oh hells!" Bran didn't fall since Jon had him, but the Dragon rose them up, out of the canopy. "Ooooh shit!"

Sansa while fleeing her tormentors, looked up at a large shadow being cast in the moonlight. She saw the dragon's massive wing span, and two figures dangling precariously from its feet. _Oh darn!_ She howled, trying to run under the shadow, it was a fast moving shadow. There were no hills, just flat clearings, trees, and a wall. She managed to gain on them, the dragon stooped low, and for second she thought they were landing. But then the beast began to beat it's wings, to gain altitude, Sansa jumped and grabbed Jon's boot with her mouth, and she found herself being pulled up too. _This was a very bad idea._


	31. Chapter 31

Samwell yelped like a girl as Jon rushed into the library. The portly gent expected the King to announce _the wall had fallen and the white walkers were outside the castle_. "Jon!- Your grace?!" He abandoned his studies.

"Hit me! Clout me! Bloody knock me out!" Jon rasped desperately, he did a loud sniff- to gather himself, rocking backwards and forwards on his feet. "Do it!"

Samwell did a meek little slap on the side of his face, he winced at his attempt and smiled awkwardly. "How was- wait, why are you asking me?!" He felt foolish. "What's happened?- Was that a test, I failed right?!"

His King looked annoyed as ever."Oh gods! Can't ask anybody else, can I?!" It sounded as if Jon was about to go off on a rant, he looked about him agitated. "Melisandre probably could do something- but I'm not asking her, Davos probably won't do it! Podrick- Fuck him!" He thought for a second, and then jabbed at Sam. "Possyt!- You have any possyt?!- I'll drink myself to sleep!"

"Oh, is that what you're trying to do, sleep?" The portly chap sighed with relief, and he closed one of his books. "I thought you had had mental breakdown."

"I don't have time for talk, Sam! Make something for me now!" Jon exclaimed, and he marched out of the library expecting Sam to follow. And he did obediently. "I spent 10 minutes trying to bloody sleep!" The King began, his pace extremely fast and violent. Sam had to run to keep up."To no avail, can't get settled, too hot and bothered."

"I noticed you were a little sweaty. It's the middle of the day, why sleep now?" Sam simpered, he saw they were heading to the kitchens- "Actually Jon, we should go to the old Maester's quarters, they'll have something in there." They changed direction, bumping into one another. "Whoops." They recovered, and continued on with their endeavour. "What's happened, Jon?" He said, after they clambered up a flight of stairs in silence, though it would have been silent if it weren't for their heavy breathing.

Jon was reluctant, shaking his head at the stones. "My Wife and I...share dreams, it's...complicated, alright?!- She's gone off to dream without me...at an odd time, and I need to get there-" He waved his hand in a gesture of dominance, and he kicked at the old maester's door to open it for his mate. "Hurry up, Sam, my wife's been asleep for half an hour, I can't wake her up." His voice finally found some calm, but it was the sadness that made it such.

"Shouldn't we be tending to that problem first, try and rouse your wife?" Sam began. "That does sound worrying."

"I've tried!" He said with a lot of anguish. "It's happened before, and I'm not going to sit around and wait for her to come out of it, I'll see where she is myself, if I can. But I'm too worked up to sleep."

"You could kiss her awake?" His friend piped up.

"This isn't a fairytale, Sam!" _Besides,_ _he'd already tried that._

His friend blew dust from a shelf of bottles, spotting a familiar substance."Essence of Nightshade, a commonplace medicine." He half sung, wiggling the bottle after he had lifted it from the old shelf.

"I don't like that stuff, it's a toxin." Jon could see its potency and age through the glass. "You'll either put me into a dreamless sleep, or you'll put me to sleep for good."

"You only need a drop, to calm you, it's better than a clout in the head." The new maester pulled the old dropper from the solution, his friend sneered at it. "You want to get to sleep quickly, or not?"

He never liked that stuff, _he read about it in a story once that frightened him, he even had a nightmare as child, where lady Catelyn tried to overdose him with it_. The King sat grudgingly at the desk, and tipped his head back. "Get on with it."

"Undiluted?"

Jon gave him a determined side-eye. "Yer."

 _Wild man._ Sam approached and hung the dropper over his eye, and his lean friend recoiled.

"What yer' doing?- The mouth Sam!" He pointed to his lips to make it clearer. _Unbelievable._

"If I put it in the eye, it gets into the bloodstream faster, I read it in a book." Sam explained, waving the dropper about, some of the nightshade dripped onto the floor. "Whoops."

The King shuddered, nobody likes things close to their eye. He lay back and braced his eyes for something unpleasant; a shock followed by irritation. Sam was over him, dangling the horrible thing above his eye, it went out of focus and he knew the drip was imminent. _Plop_. The substance was thicker than he thought, it made him temporary blind in one eye, and burned. "Aaa shit." He leant forward and rapidly blinked.

"Well?"

"Give me a minute." The pain had gone, but the blurriness remained, he looked at his friend through his good eye. "Now I just feel uptight."

"You're supposed to be calmer." Sam put the bottle down and leant to inspect the eyes. "Well...that eye is pink."

"That's 'cause you dropped something in it." He rubbed at it hard. "I'm definitely not relaxed."

"Fancy another drop?"

"No." Jon surveyed the horrible stuff on the desk disdainfully. "Though, isn't one drop for anxiety, two drops...?"

"-Well 3 drops is for dreamless sleep, I can imagine 2 could just induce drowsiness, or...dreamful sleep?" He gurned at his reasoning. "2 drops." He picked up the bottle again. "I'll do the other eye."

"Na na na, do the buggered eye again." He leaned back and fingered the eyelid, so his friend didn't forget. "Here, go on." _Sam was taking his sweet time._ "Quickly, put it in."

"That's what she said." Sam quipped bashfully, and it took Jon a little while to understand what he meant.

"Ha...If only Sam, if only." The drip went into his eye, and it sobered him. _Oo you bugger_. His eye didn't sting this time, but he still blinked to move the stuff around his eye socket. He looked about blearily. "It feels the same...only...different." _Well that took a while to get out, and contradictory._ "Send Davos...to my...wife." His friend was returning the bottle to the shelf, as he set it down there was a muffled clunk. "It's...not...woooorking...Saaaam." That bottle clunking seemed to continue like an echo.

And he heard a deep muffled response. " _Oh I think it is_." Sam was getting blurry in both of his eyes. " _You're not seeing what I'm seeing, your heads lolling about all over the place_." The laugh was baritone, and slow and sounded positively evil. The maester grew larger, he was either getting closer or fatter. But he was close to the King's face. " _Your eyes have dilated_."

Jon drew his face frigidly away from his friend's. "Wooooooaaaaaaw." _Too close._ He did a very slow lurch to the side, _Sam wasn't his type. Nope._ He found his head shaking frivolously. _Where was his sweet lady wife? – That pretty thing...with the...boobies_. "Myyyyy...Wiiiiife." He heard more evil laughter, and he felt himself fall out of the chair, but he didn't land on the floor, he just kept falling. He fell facing up, staring up at the room he had just left, he was travelling down a well, he corrected his position mid flight, and he landed perfectly on his feet on snow. He shuffled in it, there was churned up mud beneath it. _There was never snow in the dark wood, so where was he?_ He glanced up to get confirmation, and he was startled by the presence of a cross bearing the words ' **TRAITOR** '...He knew he had to leave, he turned, and walked right into Alliser Thorne's knife. "Ouh." He received the same surge of agony as before, he didn't have time to take a breath. He had no air to speak with. The older man's face was full of spite.

"For the watch."

The spite hurt more than the knife, betrayal hurt more than anything. He knew there was more to come, he ran before Olly materialized, carried his legs into the woods, clutching at a nonexistent stab wound. His height changed immediately, he felt his legs shrink along with the rest of him. He continued to run regardless, as everything loomed a lot larger over him. He couldn't dwell on the old, only the new; his wife needed him. _Or more so he needed his wife._

He reached a clearing in the mass of shadow trees, and he listened before calling for anyone. He made out distant hounds, as per usual, and wind. But he yearned for a melodic voice or wolf howl. He did a harsh whisper into the shadows. "Sansa!" His ears whistled at the silence. "Bran?!" The wind seemed to pick up around him, and for the first time he actually saw leaves, and realistic looking twigs fall about him. Debris continued to fall, and he put a hand to his forehead as he looked up to protect is eyes. The canopy was dark above him, if not for the glow of blue from the moon, and the orbs of light... _Hang on._ Two orbs, and the moonlight couldn't possibly penetrate that deep canopy, _what was making that light?_ He heard a low ominous gurgle and purr coming from above him, the orbs descended, along with a callous shape. _Nope, not staying to find out!_ He bolted, but he felt the surge of the beast behind him, further debris fell, and trees shed bark around him, he tried to outrun the shadow looming over him, but something snapped around him, it dug into his tunic. "Shit! No no no- Aaah!" And the talons dug in as he continued to struggle, and ripped through his clothing. Agony, and searing pain followed. "Aaaarrggghhh!" He was dragged up, as he soared he continued to yell, he knew it was a dragon at this point. _Old nan used to tell him about them, he was always fascinated, but right now he wanted to put himself out of harm's way_."Aaaaaa!-" -But he was interrupted when his head met a branch. _Clunk._ "Ooow!" He seized the said branch as it passed him by, jarring the dragon to an abrupt stop, it's talons sunk deeper into his flesh. "Fuck!" He grit his teeth at the discomfort. The dragon floundered above him, the more it struggled, the more pain Jon was in. "Aaaarrgh...stop moving about!" The air was cold about him, it almost felt like it was radiating from the dragon, _though he used to imagine dragon's were hot to the touch, so why this bitter cold?_

He still heard the hounds in the distance, _so he'd better shut up_. Jon dangled quietly struggling over the empty clearing, which then became occupied by a wolf and a small boy. _If it weren't for the dire circumstances... and the pain, he would have smiled_. It was Bran, _on his feet- he'd never thought he'd see the day_ , and the lady wolf, which he assumed was his wife. _Thank the gods_. Seeing a wolf looking up from this height was very endearing. _Sweet wife...wait, he had a bone to pick with her._ The dragon he supposed was more important, at this time. "It's got me!"

He saw his wife do a pointless leap about 4 feet into the air and then drop. _Well, she's trying_... _the little minx that spirited away._


	32. Chapter 32

Got a little depressed after watching a video and reading an article about endgame, particularly Jon and Arya. It was always a possibility, but it wasn't one I was aboard with, but I really wish I was, so I wouldn't be disappointed. I long to pine for Jon and Arya, but I just can't. Despite them being reincarnations of Rhaegar and Lyanna- which is sweet and all, but I can't get my head around a man choosing a girl he had a normal sibling relationship with, and a girl who does look like his biological mother. They think about each other all the time, you can pick out so many references. It would feel like something I'm aboard with, the epicness, but blah! I'm not. I'm too set in my ways. It's too hard to jump ships, too hard. I associate Jon's relationship to Arya to be like Ned's relationship with Lyanna, that of siblings.

* * *

Soaring into the void that was their dreams, Sansa didn't dwell on her past troubles. Currently she was dangling 20ft above tree canopy, scary, but her canine grip was strong, and Jon's boot tasted good. _But never mind that._ _Where was this dragon taking them?- And how much longer can she hang on, until her jaw began to ache?_ She could see Jon in agony above her, her weight was adding to this, the talons dug deep. A whistley wine escaped her. _Sorry, Jon._

She studied the dragon above them, it was bigger than the one that flew over Winterfell. It was darker and what little light there was- revealed a bluish hue to the beast, though that could have been just the moonlight.

They were alarmingly high, luckily all Sansa could do was look up, they were level with the top of the wall. She felt her canines slip slightly, and Jon eyes widened a little. "No...Noo, just a little longer!" He warned frightfully, he was trying to bend his leg up to get her closer, so he could grab her scruff, except she slipped some more. "Ah! No no...Shan't do that."

They were approaching the dream wall, and they hoped it was as solid as everything else in the weird illusion. They came over it, and Sansa's teeth finally slipped off completely, she felt panic, then the falling sensation, followed by an icy landing. Jon and Bran sighed in relief. The dragon dropped the boys on the wall too, they landed in a heap on the slippery surface, not far from the wolf.

Bran being on top had to scramble up first. "He left us?"

"Yeah..." Jon watched the dragon fly past to the other side of the wall. He turned to his 'younger sibling', who in turn clocked him immediately, and their smiles mirrored one another. "It's good to see you." They hugged, now it was time for a proper reunion. "Sansa said you were here, I never saw you."

"I don't come here often. It must run in the blood for us all the meet like this...not the best place, there are other places, why do you come here?"

Jon kept his arm around his 'cousin', not wanting to let go- even if he was an illusion. "I think it's some kind of purgatory, you see Bran..." That sobered him, he wet his lips to gather himself "...I died, I was murdered by my own men."

Bran face opened in horror, before scrunching up, about to cry. "You're dead?! You're dead?!"

The elder boy grabbed him by both shoulders. "I was brought back to life by a witch, the same witch that told me I was half Targaryen, that's why I told Sansa, we were most likely cousins." He soothed, and the younger lad still looked upset, he could make out his wife shuffling awkwardly on her paws, and when he looked to confirm her mood, she gave him an intense stare. _One could guess she was thinking about their marriage and Bran's reaction._ "Which brings-"

"-Then how can you be dragged back from the other side?- Did you see the afterlife?"

Jon heard his wife murmur in worry, she obviously didn't want him to panic the boy. "The gods weren't finished with me, so they brought me here to wait, but every time I dream, I come back." He echoed his wife explanation.

Bran broke free from his 'brother', and motioned to his sister. "Did you die?"

"Nah Bran, she can't be killed, she's dreaming too, back at Winterfell."

He pivoted, nearly slipping on the ice. "Winterfell, you're back at Winterfell?- That's great!" He remembered something vital. "What about the Ironborn and Theon?"

Jon and his wife shared a look, _he didn't know a lot...in fact you could say; he knew nothing._ The elder boy smiled to himself. _Makes a change_. "We took back Winterfell, it was taken over by the..." He didn't make eyes with his wife. "Boltons." But he heard her endearing whistley whine, and he reached down and pet her. "I was proclaimed King by the men who helped..." Bran's proud smile faded slightly, it irked Jon. "They pledged fealty...it's-"

"-Did you legitimize yourself as a Stark or a Targaryen?"

The wind bit at his small body, and the question was tricky to answer since he got the feeling Bran wouldn't like either answer. "Well I was about to legitimize myself as a...Stark." He was testing the waters now, gauging his new cousin's reaction.

"-But you didn't..." He shuffled from foot to foot, smiling absently. "But regardless, how was Sansa not named as head of the north?"

Jon shoulders sunk slightly. _Bastard. Not a trueborn._ He rewet his lips. "Well Sansa is-"

The wolf gulped.

"-Still head of the family, head of Winterfell...until you get back." He made sure he said that. "But I have told my supporters I have Targaryen blood, so I'm probably going to legitimize myself as such, I'll have to, but they do think I'm worthy enough to hold the north."

"They were willing to get behind you?" His little cousin was trying to be gentle. "I know you were raised a Stark, I suppose since you won Winterfell- it makes sense...of course they would get behind you. But still...you alienate some of them, since you are...technically a foreigner." He tried to smile, it faltered, and he returned his attention to the wolf. "Are you alright with this?"

Sansa managed a nod. _She was still Queen in her own right, with or without marriage._ She yawned with stress when she realised what else had to be revealed, she sensed her husband stand closer to her. _Oh gods._

"There is something else we need to tell you." He was very grave, _which was only right, how do you tell a brother- you married a sister?..Well cousin?_ Sansa suddenly sensed the conversation wasn't going that route, Jon reeked of despair, as well as reluctance _. Oh little brother._ "Bran, sit down."

"What is it?" Their brother paled, he staggered. "No, what is it?...Please get on with it."

Sansa whined at him. _Sit down, Bran._ She even pawed at his knees, and it worked, since he sat on the ice.

The King took a deep breath. "Rickon has died."

Bran looked blank, devoid of any emotion, it reminded Sansa of herself. It looked awful, _but what was to come was worse._ His face scrunched up, but his voice remained normal, with a smidge of anger. "No no no! Rickon is well...he is with Osha and...Shaggydog...he is fine. No!" He pointed at the ground in determination, his voice edging towards panic. "He's with the umbers!"

Jon shook his head and squatted beside the boy. "They betrayed us." His hand sort his shoulder, but the younger lad recoiled.

"No!" Bran scrambled up from under his cousin. "Until I see a body, until I see it in a vision...he is not dead! You're wrong!"

 _This was awful, this was the worse way to deliver the news_. "I saw him die. We buried him in the crypts, Bran." Further despair dispersed among the 3 of them. "I'm sorry." Jon was attempting another hug, but Bran was spinning out of it, in complete denial. Sansa jumped onto him, her back paws skidded and she ended up falling onto her back, she recovered, and tried to paw at his chins. _Sorry sorry sorry sorry._

"Our family is getting so..." Bran faded away, from their dream, leaving the King and Queen on the wall, looking into the space the small boy filled, before acknowledging they still had each other. A frightening squawk rung in the air, the dragon was returning, swooping low, about to make a skid landing on the ice.

* * *

Jon woke with a start, a loud snort erupted from him, waking up the other occupants in the room. Sam and Melisandre where perched near one another on chairs, both jolting from their slumps. The king's eyes unfogged, and he recalled he wasn't in his bedchamber when he had fallen asleep, but the room he was in wasn't the Maester's laboratory. He wasn't slumped in a chair, but in a dingy bed, laying flat- "Where is this?"

Sam stood to evaluate him, poking his flawless cheeks. "Maester's bedchamber, your grace." His friend flinched at being prodded. "You're looking worn and pale."

The King sat up in the bed, Sam had to take a step back. "You moved me?"

"Davos helped, a bit, your head was at an odd angle." He did a strange pose, Jon supposed that was a demonstration. "You were gone for nearly a whole day."

"What?!" Jon flung his legs off the bed and settled them on the floor, _the dream had lasted a day?- What a waste!_ "Sansa...is she up?"

The red priestess breezed in, flicking her hands out of her sleeves, so she could touch him."Davos and Podrick are with her, she wasn't awake when we came to you...I don't know if anything's changed."Her hand adorned his cheek, and it was not welcome. "But I'm sure she'll be useful regardless." Jon stood, nearly knocking both his companions onto the floor. _He couldn't believe what came out of this bitch's mouth._

"If she's not awake this'll all be for nothing." He stormed out, he wasn't going to fanny about giving explanations. Servants dove into alcoves and nooks to get out of his way, it took him merely minutes to get to his chamber. He came in and saw his wife, lying where he had left her, he had put the sleeping babe into bed. But this time she was conscious and talking to Davos. Podrick was the first to acknowledge the King's presence.

"Your grace." And he left, it was more of an announcement to the others that the King had arrived. Sansa looked up at him, conveying too many emotions for a woman her age. They stared for about a few seconds, before the King broke that contact to talk to Davos. "Rough day I hear."

The old gent tried to smile. "The castle hasn't been the same without your moody presence, Sam told us what he had been told, not sure I'm comfortable with it all."

"We're preparing for a war against monsters...and sharing dreams bothers you?"

The bed jolted as the King sat on it next to his wife, who appeared in mourning, her puffy red eyes focused on him. "You really shouldn't use essence of nightshade, it's a frightening elixir." Their hands met, and they both clasped each others. "You could have had too much."

"I trust Sam, and with good reason, I'm here unscathed." He sandwiched her hand, rubbing it to create warmth. "You're cold."

Davos inclined to the fire. "It went out, sorry, I wasn't paying attention, I'll get Podrick...I'm sure he's not far." He did a sort of skip out the room.

Leaving the King and Queen to their own devices. They both reared up for a hug, and wrapped themselves in each other's arms. They remained that way even when talking. "My brother might not return to that world, especially if he's in denial. Do you think he blames us?" She uttered without her natural speaking voice, for it came out above a whisper.

"He doesn't know the circumstances, and he wouldn't blame us regardless...do you think he blamed us for the other deaths...I don't think so." He rasped into her ear, clutching at her tighter.

 _Little did he know Sansa always blamed herself for her father's death._ She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, and didn't want to pull back because of them, she didn't want him to see. "Perhaps we should never tell him about us, that might kill him."

Jon drew back slightly then, his face staying close. They were consuming each other's air. "That'll never do, we can't keep it quiet our whole lives."

She felt bad for suggesting that, and dipped her head. "Yes but, our family would be even more critical than people who hardly know us. They would be constantly putting themselves in our shoes, reminding us that if it were them...they would find it...disgusting."

Jon hadn't yet released her from his hold. "I don't think they'll find it disgusting." He was getting irked.

And Sansa had to explain herself. "I'm not saying we are, this isn't my opinion on the matter-" Her voice returned to its normal natural volume. "We're all close, they were so close to you...and I am their actual sister, they'll see it like...I don't know-. " She shifted cagily, trying to find an adequate example. "-Bran and Arya getting married...like together." The idea made both of them cringe, and they made a clicky noise together. "See?"

"We're not like them, though." His face got all sappy, and heated, she imagined behind those lips, his teeth were about to grind. "We've...dabbled." He added quite cheekily, and he gave her a little squeeze to remind her she was still in his hold. "Oh...and by the way..."

"Hm?"

His eye-line dipped, she figured to the mouth, he was too close to see _boobage_. "Why did you escape again?"

 _Oh hell._ Her arms dropped, implying she wanted to pull back when explaining herself, he obliged grudgingly. "I heard a familiar noise, it frightened me." She yanked the covers from her legs to inspect the damage, and her husband looked as sheepish as ever. "This." She emphasized it, like it was an important exhibit.

"That." He indicated to the mess of skirt, and rubbed the back of his neck. "...Was an accident." He tried.

"How?"

"I was trying to move it, and it ripped."

"Why were you moving it?"

"It was in...It looked like...you were getting warm in it...so out of courtesy and comfort, I shifted it." Jon nodded, _believing his own tripe_. "And I failed...and I'm sorry." The last bit came out fast and devoid of any feeling.

She should be mad, or at least concerned. But she felt like laughing, he was deadpan but so confident with his blatant lies, so much so that she pitied him- and all insatiable men. _And that was quite a fete_. Her face remained neutral, and she nodded to the tripe. "Right, I see."

"No...really, I'm sorry, I got caught in the moment. I'm really sorry." He meant it that time. "But could you just talk to me next time, talk to me as we are going along, so you don't slump on me again." It sounded like he had nagging ache, his voice was exasperated. "I feel like we're building up to...something, and then fall flat." His honesty was good and sweet, but she didn't need reminding she was behind on her duties as a wife. "I swear Sansa, my balls are going to drop off."

 _Alright that wasn't necessary_. "Well...don't get...worked up." She coyly scratched her ear, trying to soothe herself. "Don't let it...you know."

"-You're joking, right?" He was incredulous, his face still puffy from the nap. "You can't do that, and expect a man not to get worked up. It's like you're pulling on it and then tucking it back in before the big finish."

"Oh gods, don't be so casual talking of such things!" She caught a glimpse of the open doorway, and went over to shut it. "That's one way of telling your subjects our union is void."

"It doesn't have to be, gods be damned!" That burst out of him like a ruptured dam, and she wasn't going to approach him when he was like that. "Is this another reason?!- You're hoping eventually I'd tire of it, and we'd just get an annulment?!"

"No!" She protested. "Dear husband-" She sounded mocking. "There is plenty of time to validate our marriage."

"Give me notice, please." He rumbled, pushing his back against the headboard. "I'm in agony."

"Well don't mind my agony." Her childish tone was back. "You are very forgetful."

"I remember! I remember everything." His voice was very bitter. "But we could take comfort in each other."

"This is nothing to do with comfort, Jon, this is about you, and heirs." Sansa sighed and pushed herself from the bed, and her dear husband looked forlorn as she was departing his grabbing range. "It can be fixed." For second Jon thought she was talking about consummating, but she was gesturing to her dress. "-But it'll look odd, I'll have to put an embroidered patch to mask the repairs." She sifted through the skirts, and reached her leg effortlessly, she turned frigidly away from her husband, because he blatantly looked at the leg, and rumbled. "You got all the way through the petticoats!" Raising her voice. "Gods, Jon!" She flapped at the hanging material. "Terrible."

"You've never looked better."

"Shut up!"


	33. Chapter 33

When the sun had gone down, servants settled down for the night, the livestock snuggled, guards switched places, Davos and Sam held a mini book club, and Agnes found her way into Podrick's bed. Meanwhile Sansa and Jon stood on the elevated platform that overlooked the empty courtyard. Since they had slept for a day, their routine had been wrecked, so they stood wide awake in the dead of the night. Sansa shuffled her feet, moving her petticoats about. A comfortable silence consumed the two, filled with listening to the howling wind, and watching one another produce condensation from their mouths. When they realised what they were doing, they both grinned coyly and returned to adjusting their furs about them.

"Erm...I have something for you." Jon rumbled awkwardly at the fencing.

"I bet you do." Sansa stopped fiddling and turned to him, inquisitively. A blue rose materialized in his hand from within his furs. She stared at it amiably, a sweet delicate favour in such a strong leather clad hand. The Queen took it slowly from him as if it might catch fire. "Thank you, your grace." She tickled her philtrum with it, sniffing it daintily, tempted to let her tongue taste the frost on it. _What's with the fascination with touching flecks of ice?_ She recalled in her younger years just staring at it with wonderment, and sighing. 'An enchantment.' And then she recalled a younger Jon unleashing Arya like some wild beast, to trample and thrash about on the virgin snow, and dust every frosted surface. "It's lovely, your grace." She rolled the stem between her thumb and forefinger, so the rose spun prettily.

He bobbed his head courteously, wrapping his fur back around him. "Good." He returned to staring down at the courtyard, but she could tell he was secretly pleased with himself. _And so he should, Sansa was a sucker for someone who gave her flowers._

"Shall we stroll?" She indicated to the path ahead. Her husband smiled absently and aligned himself with her, so they could walk two abreast. They toured the battlements, not realising they were both looking for the same thing; dragons. Their eyes were drawn to the skies, enduring flakes to the eye so they could watch out for wings. "What does dreaming of dragons mean?"

Sansa saw him shrug. "We're obsessed with dragons, it's funny how we all see the same thing...want the same thing." His eye lingered on her a moment before looking up again. "Or maybe I have an intense phobia of dragons, they always hurt me in my dreams."

"-No, I've been thinking...I believe the dragon was bringing you to higher ground, to protect you." That was how she assessed it, not everything was horrible about that world. "It's funny how we're still referring to the world as our dreams, when we have no control, and it exists outside of our own mind...it's a place. An actual place." She grimaced, that was enlightening, but horrible.

"Why are you always a wolf?- And why am I always a boy?" It didn't sound like he was asking her directly, for no one could answer that.

"Bran said it's because I pine for the innocence of my childhood as a Stark, I have no voice, because I chose not to use it..." She huffed, as if she doubted that. "I want to speak, I try to speak...I suppose it's to do with the expectations of my sex, women should be seen and not heard...Though it might not be as deep as that, it's probably something to with being honest with myself."

He had that strange smile gracing his manly face. "Gods Sansa, write this stuff down in your book." She returned his kind smile. "You're allowed to speak whenever you please, be as noisy as you can, Sansa."

"Charming." She scoffed, and he steered himself in front her, they bumped, she nearly took a bite out of his nose. "Oop."

"I want you to sing like you used to, giggle when you talk to your friends or your handmaidens..." He was staring into her soul again, his eyes were as fascinating as marbles. "...Fret over every scratch you see on anybody, especially me..." She didn't want to interrupt, she didn't want him to stop talking. "...watch you savour lemon cakes." She tinged at that. _Enough, oh my... how was she to eat lemon cakes without..._? "- watch you read your books, while I read you."

"Read me?" She frowned. "I must learn to contain myself. " Sansa suddenly remembered something, it burned into her mind and came out of her mouth like an ancient spell. "Never let anybody be certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are likely to do next. Best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. When you come to play the game." She noted her husband stare at her a little harsher than before.

"Game, what game?- I'm your husband you don't have to... baffle me, or plot. Who have you been talking to?" He was shrewd and edged towards her as if to impose himself on her. "Sweetheart." He cupped her face, and she remembered whom she was talking to, and whom she had quoted.

"Forgive me, an old lesson I was given when I was young and impressionable."

"You're still young and..." _Careful_. Jon tipped her head and lay a lingering kiss on her forehead, he drew back and focused on her mouth."Who taught you this lesson?"

Her mouth went dry, a name she should not speak, once somebody knows the man, they will be part of their dangerous game. "Someone I thought was a friend. Someone I was foolish to trust."

He nodded and gave her some space. "I see." _Had she disappointed him?_ They returned to touring the castle, she thought she had escaped the question and avoided aggravation, but he pressed her again. "So this person is your foe, then he is mine as well...who is he?"

"Lord Baelish?" She said it in way as if not sure Jon would know who he was.

"Littlefinger...foster brother of your mother." He retorted gravely. "The man who gave up custody of you and gave you away." He knew. "You're right...he is a foe, next time I see him, I will try him."

Sansa halted him. "It won't be easy to do that. Plus, we might find him useful."

"No."

"No?"

"No." Jon was firm. _Boy was he firm._ "I don't find untrustworthy men useful. If a man teaches you something like that, he obviously follows his own lessons." He threaded her arm through his. "I will never leave you alone in his presence." And he half strolled, half frog marched her to their rooms. As they entered, they noted the fires had been lit in both chambers. "Excellent, I can go about the next part of my plan."

"What did I say about getting worked up?" His wife chided him, quickly slipping her arm out of his. Sansa placed her rose on her hope chest.

"Oh silly wife, I intend to bathe." He disappeared into the other chamber to pull the copper bath in front of the fire, he gave her a lopsided smirk from the distance he was at. "You're the one with the dirty mind, sweetheart, not me."

She was abashed, and was about to saunter out. "I'll see if I can hunt you down a squire."

"A man needs no squire to bathe!" Jon called from the other room. "I'm used to washing myself."

"I meant to fetch and heat the water, you can't expect to do that yourself." She edged to the door, in case he wasn't decent, she saw him just setting up things in the room, Sansa relaxed and wandered in. "I'm sure there's still servants up."

His back was to her, lining the metal up to the rug edge. "When I was growing up- I got my own water ready sometimes. Perks of being a bastard."

She had a fleeting image of him as a boy, walking down a hallway being weighed down by a bucket. _Oh yes, he did used to get his own water._ "Perks?"

He glanced around when he realised she was in the chamber with him. "Yeah, I didn't want any squires looking at my equipment."

"Oh so crude." She tutted, and vacated the room so she could settle at her desk. "Perhaps watching you exhaust yourself will tire me out?"

Jon sniggered, and returned to the bed chamber. "That's one way to do it." And he disappeared from their rooms with a couple of buckets.

Sansa knew how long it took her maidservants, so she gathered if Jon was a strong and energetic as he was, he would do it in half the time. But she knew the time it took to heat up the water always stayed the same no matter who was doing it.

He made about 10 trips in and out of the room, and every time he got faster. She noted he had a system; while heating up two pales of water, he would fetch another two from the basement wells. Which was a far cry from his childhood when he used to carry just one pale with both hands. On his final trip he returned with ice and snow, _how resourceful._ Her burly but lean husband didn't come out of the other chamber, and she realised he was probably done with the physical aspects of preparation. _Physical aspects of preparation...why does that sound dirty?_ She heard the telltale rustle of clothing, followed by the splash and slop of water. He had forgotten to close the door...

 _Erm._ _She'd better rectify that...later._ He was out of her sight, and she was comfortably seated in her chair, so she could just write away her insecurities. She picked up her quill and began to reflect. But it was difficult, she could hear the rubbing and frothing of soap, _against skin_. And one of her eyes began to involuntary twitch and her quill fell out of her hand, it wasn't necessarily his ablutions, but imagining the casual nudity, that...caused her loss in motor skills. _But you can't see him!_ Sansa looked towards the doorway, the light from the fire cast a rectangular square into her rooms. She stared intensively at the light, watching it flicker, feeling it's warmth- ' _Plop! Thud! Slip.'_ A bar of soap clattered onto the boards in her line of sight and slid out into the rectangular light. She blinked at it, startled.

"Shit-Whoops." She heard her husband announce to _gods know who?_ There was a sense of annoyance that she had been present when the incident had occurred, ignorance was bliss. She wouldn't be sweating if she hadn't been here. He was either going to climb out and fetch the soap, or- "Sansa? Would you pass me the soap, love?"

 _Oh but of course...he would go for that option._ _Maybe if she kept quiet, he would think she was not there, or asleep?_ She kept silent, staring at the soap. _How evil_. She heard him incline in the bath, and she listened to some of the water spill over the side onto the boards.

"Sansa?"

She could taste blood, she had bit into her lip. "Yes?" She forced.

"Do you see the soap on the floor?"

Pause. "Oh...yes, what's it doing there?" She fained surprise.

"Pass it back to me."

Sansa arose from her seat, and ventured to the doorway, but didn't look through the doorway. Soon as she got to the soap, she kicked it into the room towards the bath, she heard it clang against the metal, she hoped he would reach out of the bath and get it. But upon quick inspection he had his back to her. She would have survived passing it to him normally. Not only that, the soap had ricocheted off the tub and went further into the room. He inclined to her, his shoulder blades moved with the muscles in his back.

"Who was that to?" Jon had an incredulous tone. "Put it in my hand."

She huffed and marched into the room, and avoided looking at any part of his anatomy. Sansa stooped, retrieved the soap, and turned to leave, she expertly dropped the soap into the bath on the way out, completely missing the waiting hand.

"Sansa!" He was sharp, and she didn't acknowledge him. "What did I do?!" He sloshed about, obviously trying to salvage the bar from the depths of the tub. "You've got a real attitude, you know, was that too much exertion for you?"

She swivelled in the doorway, clutching at the frame. "I'm not a squire." She said simply, staring at his head and shoulders, he turned his head as if sensing the gaze. "I was in the middle of writing...don't get so zealous with the soaping- and you could have prevented that little mishap...and for my attitude, sorry, if your wife frightens you." The little snuffle she heard she knew was internalized laughter. She thought that would be the end of the discussion.

"Before you settle down, could you wash my hair?"

"What did I just say?" Sansa shot, burning holes into his shoulder blades.

He sucked in air which dried his teeth. "I'm asking you as a husband to a wife; could you wash my hair, please?" He sensed her still lingering by the door. "I washed out your hair."

"I never asked you to."

He maintained his masculine rasp even when coaxing. "Come on, love...You might find it hypnotic, relaxing..."

"Sensual?"

Jon turned his head, and she dipped her own, abashed. "You said it, not me." He did a jarring hair flick, to remove his hair from his face. "Come on."

The Queen pulled up a stool, it was a tiny stool, normally reserved for handmaidens attending to bathing rituals, that, and the milking...of cows. She perched on it, and managed to split her skirt clad legs to either side of the bath, she had to pull some of it to her knees. She looked at the moist back and its accompanying muscles. Sigh. "Is this what these buckets are reserved for?" She noted 2 pales of heated water.

"That's right."

She was studying the volume of black hair, damp at the tips, and curling slightly. She cupped some of the water in the pale to give his crown a good dowse. "Where's the hair oil?"

"A man doesn't need hair oil."

"You mean you just rinse it with water?" She was irked. "So what's that smell?"

"Oh that pleasant smell, you mean?"

She expected him to list herbs. "Yes."

"Man, Sansa, the smell of man."

 _Dammit, she walked right into that._ "I see...you could at least-" She toyed with it. _Oh my gods...you probably shouldn't do that._ It had a profound affect on her, and her husband, he seemed to tip his head back, leisurely. "I'll... get some oil, you can use mine." She stood and went over to the mantel, on her trip she felt a hand stroke her skirt in passing, but ignored it. Sansa seized her bottle, forgot herself, and turned to look at him. _Oh lord_. It was probably a mixture of sweat and water that gave him a sheen, even the face, the neck...and the ripples of muscle everywhere else- torso, arms- wet wet wet. While still taking in the wonder...she tipped the bottle to empty the oil into her hand, and missed her hand, and it splatted on the floor. _Dammit._

Jon who had been watching her, snorted at the mishap. "Focus, love." He elaborated very cockily, his hands playfully rapping the sides of the bath. "The floor isn't a useful place to put it." He emphasised 'to put it.'

Luckily, the murky water obscured the areas that probably would have sent her whole body into spasm, _through fear most likely._.. _and nothing more._ Her husband's legs were completely submerged, so she figured he had them crossed...That's until he uncrossed them, and bent them out of the water. _Knees!._.. _Right, that's enough observations!_ She motioned behind him, back to the safety of her perch. Sansa oiled up her hands, and lathered up his hair. The water got higher as he sank down, partly laying in the tub, but kept his head out, for her ministrations. His abdominal muscles disappeared within the murky depths. _And good riddance...don't need that...little...distraction._ _The chesticles-_ _well whatever they're called- she was sure she will remember in time the actual name, but whatever they were- remained in sight._ Them, and the collar bones. She continued to zealously rub into the hair, fingering through it, messaging the scalp. _Pectorals! That's it, they're called pectorals!_

Jon expelled air through his nose, with such force it was audible. It moved the water, a little, drawing her attention back to the chest area, which was rising and falling gently. His hands moved from clutching the sides of the tub, to sinking into the water.

She moved a spare bucket under his head and hair ready for the rinse. "I'm just going to get a goblet, so I can do this without emptying the entire bucket in one go. Besides I doubt I'll be able to hold it up and control the spillage." She moved into the bedchamber and retrieved a wine goblet, and came back to her husband's side. She began to scoop cupfuls of water to dump over his hair, masking his brows and eyes as she did. The weight of the water making his hair straight and longer than it was. Sansa felt his eyelashes tickling her palm that protected his eye area. She then started to manipulate the hair to squeeze out the soapy water. She thumbed along his hairline and over his ears. He looked up at her over him at that point, those soulful eyes boring into hers, and she severed it to fill another cup. "Turn your head to one side." She guided it, and he looked towards the fire, she soaked and treated the hair at the back, but used the opportunity to look at his bearded jaw line and neck, she saw his adam's apple shift. "And turn your head the other way." _Yes, that side looked just as...alright._

The Queen saw his hand come out the water with the soap, he arched himself slightly out of the water, his torso coming back into view. _What is he...?_ And he started to rub the soap slowly over the bumps, like it was some washboard. _Cuss, cuss._ She was squeezing handfuls of his hair to the rhythm of the rubs. He started to make circular motions over his skin, it was foaming up over his leanness. When the hair was sufficiently wringed, it began to naturally curl again. She released the damp tresses, it was like releasing herself from bondage as she rose from her seat, with an exasperated sigh. "Done." The height did her no favours, she could see more of the gleam, and he was not really focusing on what he was doing, _that was a shit load of soap on there_. Jon was watching her, carefully, then a small trace of a smile slowly formed on his dewy face. _He was doing this for entertainment, was he was doing this for her?_

"Are you?"

There was a void of silence, which could not be casually ignored, since they were essentially staring at one another recklessly. She was foolish not managing her facial expressions, or not trying more sneaky subtle glances- she had gotten sloppy, like a man. Ogling. And in true fashion of a man, didn't care if someone witnessed the ogle.

It was only her and him, and by now he had to know the influence he had. That scared her to the core, _no one should have that kind of power, and she had been enchanted. Witchcraft_. _Perhaps the witch had dropped something in the wells, poisoned the water, or the oil she used? Maybe...the soap? She could put an end to this spell."_ You're right, I'm not done."

The soap froze on his abs."Huh?"

Sansa picked up the left over warm water in the bucket, and dowsed his body with it, especially the chest- _oh and the face._ While he coughed and recovered, she slammed her hand on the bottom of the bucket to expel the drips. "Done." He made a lurch and she tried to dash away, but he caught a handful of her skirt. Sansa halted with a gasp, so he wouldn't tear the fabric, but she did tug, to try and lean away. "Noo." He started to get out of the bath, using her lower half to climb up. "Oh my gods!" It was straining the seams of her dress, she could hear them creak. "Jon!- Don't you ruin another one!" He was wet, so her dress was getting soaked. She put her hand to the floor, to lower herself, to take the pressure and weight off of the middle of her dress. But she was putting herself in a vulnerable position, considering she was now sprawled on the floor, with naked man now climbing on top of her. She lifted her head, to see him still dragging himself up of her, his damp stubble skimming her chest before drawing level with her face. Sansa couldn't read that face, it was heated, but vexed. It hovered over her, dripping onto hers. His wet curls curtaining her. She must have looked in awe, because he had no trouble deciding whether to kiss her or not. It was bruising, the kiss and body contact, but that was probably the weight bearing down on her. To get the pressure off of her legs, she opened them and he fell between them.

Jon's head came up then, sensing the change in position, _he stirred_. "Can I bed you, Sansa?" He rasped, his face almost duty-bound. There was no air getting in her lungs, she was gasping, he realised and did a push up, to lift him off her chest cavity. "I'll try and be gentle..."

She was a little flustered, and alarm was all she could convey. All that came to mind was - _maybe, that's a step in the right direction, but you can't tell him maybe._ "Tomorrow...my love...tomorrow." She managed breathlessly, feeling a mental and literal weight lift off her. There was a void filled with uneasy breaths, then a rumble erupted from him, as he peeled off of her, his expression was hard to read, she observed he was disappointed, _perhaps a little spurned_ , but he didn't press the issue- she gathered he was hopeful, since she had given him notice, which was what he had asked for.

Sansa averted her eyes as he stood, _she nearly saw it._ She rolled onto her side to clamber up, her dress rustled, and her legs shook as she rose to a more lady like position. The Queen furtively inspected his demeanour from the corner of her eye. He was standing straight, looking down into his bath. Jon then combed his hair back. "Good...good." He rasped. From the corner of her eye, she could make out another shape, she reddened. "Tomorrow it is." He added, and she could tell from the tone he was smiling.

She shuffled out of the room, feeling wounded and damp...everywhere. "I'll give you some...privacy." _It was a little pointless_ , but something told her he would probably utilize the privacy for a more intimate activity. When she reached the bed, she swooned and collapsed onto it.

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A review would be magic.


	34. Chapter 34

Sorry I took so long, had trouble with the site. On top of that I'm moving house.

* * *

Sansa lay wide awake in bed, staring at the moon. A carnal moon. _There was no going back, though do you really want to go back?_ She rolled over to stare at her husband's sleeping form. _How can he sleep so soundly? –He is probably with Bran now, like she should be._ She rolled onto her back, and started plaiting a lock of her hair, imagining how short tomorrow would be. The King would probably retire to bed early, _perhaps after midday?_ It occurred to her how unforgiving it would have been if she had said 'next week.' Sansa lay still for awhile, and closed her eyes. _Maybe she will drift off_ _to sleep?_ She opened them again when she heard her husband get up. For a second she thought; _it was morning- it was tomorrow, time's up._ She hoped she had made it clear she meant tomorrow evening. It was still dark, the moon was still visible, he picked up something and wandered into the other chamber. This told her had gone to relieve himself. She heard the strong stream of water hit chamber pot and she had to stifle laughter.

The Queen recalled a very random moment in her childhood when her father, brothers and company, took her riding, they swore to her mother it was a simple ride, but they had equipped themselves for a hunt. Catelyn never believed any of her daughters should go on a hunt, despite the northman's ease with a lady's upbringing. Northern women were allowed to train and hunt. Sansa never took interest in those pursuits, but it added to her appeal. The ladies and men folk cooed over her; _what a perfect pretty little girl._

While on this forbidden hunt, she had to have Lord Stark lift her like the tiny girl she was at the time, on and off her horse. It was before her growth spurt, when everybody thought she would grow up to be a petite woman. But she grew, she wasn't sure which side she inherited her height from, but she had her mother's long neck.

Sansa remembered the first time she saw a male relieve himself, they presented their back to her, and remained standing- _that was odd to her_ , and the gent stared up at the heavens as he peed, then his hand braced himself on the tree. ' _Theon lad, don't do that in front of my girl.'_ Her father said as the ward shuddered.

' _It's alright...she didn't see anything, right my lady?'_

A nine year old Jon had grimaced. _'It isn't proper for a lady to know what you are doing, a good lord should know that.'_

' _Quiet, bastard.'_ Theon said out of habit, forgetting Lord Stark was present. Jon advanced on the young lad.

' _Hey!'_ Ned stepped between them. There was always tension between Theon and Jon.

Sansa rolled over in bed, away from her husband's side, she stilled when she heard the door open, and he came bumbling back in. Sansa listened to him place the chamber pot down, and wash his hands in a separate bowl. _At least she hoped it was separate bowl._ The bed bounced as he got back in, and she listened to him faff with the blankets, and settle against his pillow. His breathing was normal, fast and shallow, he stopped momentarily, giving her the impression he had died, again.

"Are you awake?" Jon said, loudly enough it would have woken her.

He must have heard her breathing. Sansa rolled over to face the side of his body, his head turned to her on his pillow. "Yes." The dark made her view limited, she could only see the contours of his face. "I can't sleep."

She could sense his hand on the move."Is it tomorrow?" He rumbled, and she knew what he was getting at.

She strained her head to the window. "It's dark, the day hasn't started yet...we have made it through most of the night...I would like to spend the last couple of hours before dawn, sleeping. " She heard him grumble, and smirked. "Jon, you were a member of the night's watch- you swore celibacy for life, surely you can wait a day."

"Even then... I only managed just over a year, before breaking that vow and lying with a woman."

Sansa blinked at him through the darkness, her hand lingered on the sheets between them. "You broke it?"

He took a breath, clearly he had slipped up. _Would he be allowed to bed her now?_ "Disappointed?" He wriggled down and across to be level with her. "I was still faithful to the night's watch through and through." He was earnest, his hand stroking on top of hers.

"Oh Jon, I really don't need you to convince me of your loyalty." His lips tugged at that. "Besides they didn't return it." She added bitterly, and through only seeing contours she saw tension in her husband's face. "Was she...?" She returned to the issue at hand. "-Was this the woman whom you witnessed having a... _you know._ " It was that unfamiliar word rearing its head, and Jon chuckled before becoming sombre.

"Yes." His eyes were nearly fluorescent, cutting through the night. "She was my first."

Sansa sucked in her lips. _And you will be his second_. "Well I knew you weren't a virgin, you seem to know too much...opposed to nothing." She was trying to bring humour to the conversation, but the sadness still remained, she sensed the fling didn't end well, or it had dire circumstances. Her next question should uncover the truth. "What _is_ her name?"

"Her name _was_ ...Ygritte."

The 'was' didn't necessarily mean she was...no more. Since the fling happened in the past , 'was' was the correct grammar. She studied her sweet Jon, he was brooding, he wasn't reminiscing- but she wished he was. "I'm sorry...I sense pain in your heart." And she didn't know how and why? "Did something go wrong?"

He honed some love in his eyes, and directed it at her. "Sweet wife..." He had nothing to follow it with, his features fell into a sad pensive state. "I doubt if she had survived...she would have lasted long." He eased. "She was wild and indifferent to anyone south of the wall. I had to choose between the night's watch and her, and I chose the night's watch."

A frightening silence broke between them, both sensing the other's thoughts. "You probably should have chosen her." Sansa said darkly, and Jon snorted. "...Considering, what _they did_ , I suppose you would have married her." There was a bitter-sweetness to it, Jon read it as doubt, possibly even jealously.

"Sansa, a marriage to her would have been the death of my mission. I did love her, but she was set in her ways."

She heard him swallow. "I'm not sure if to believe you would have given up on your first love, regardless. Death was the only thing that stopped you."

"Hers or mine?" He said it like it was a joke.

Sansa mirrored his sad eyes. "How did she die?"

Jon drew up from the mattress, putting his back to the headboard, it held the majority of the moonlight, so she saw his face more clearly. "Are we actually going to continue this discussion?" He sounded as if he wanted to refrain.

"I think we should, for both our sakes." She lay onto her front, pulling her pillow under her chin, staring up him calculatingly. "I want to know the cause of the sadness in your eyes right now. You know the worst of what has happened to me, and now I must know yours."

He looked stunned, not knowing where to start. "Erm..." He shoved his pillow between his back and the headboard. "After our Uncle Benjen had gone missing beyond the wall...he was a ranger you see, his duty was within the deep north. We assembled a bunch of men, including myself to investigate what had happened, and hopefully find our Uncle, and other members of the brotherhood that were with him."

"Was this before or after you were made lord commander?"

"Before." Jon replied. "It wasn't long after I was given my valyrian steel sword by Commander Mormont..."

* * *

Ladywolf!Sansa followed little Jon benevolently over the snow covered boulders, they winded through a valley of rocks. There was a stack of boulders inclining down a hill, and Jon found a crack to squeeze through. Sansa followed easily, since she was smaller. She looked about her surroundings, they were in a cave that had water running through it.

"This is where it happened." The little boy said, standing in the middle of the cave. "I stood where you stand now, and she got...naked...here." His cheeks tinged.

"Woow oaaaaw wooaaaw." Sansa tried. _I'm naked right, now._ That was something she had to get used to, being a wolf required nudity at all times. Animals didn't need clothes.

"I know this isn't the actual place, but I remember it...so, of course it would be in my dreams." Their little dream world had grown bigger, there was so much to explore, and more light. The darkness was retreating. "I wonder why Ygritte never materializes?"

"Wooow waaoow oow." _She crossed over to the other side._ And gave a whine, in apology.

"I still love you, don't worry."

 _That's not what I said._ "Woooaaw."

"I'm assuming that's; I love you too." He walked over to pet her, and she nipped him affectionately. _It was probably best if he thought as such._ "What's..."

Suddenly rocks began to fall in the water, peddles and gravel dislodged all over the place. It was like their world was tearing apart."Let's get out of here!" Jon tugged on her scruff and guided her to the crack, they both squeezed through. There was a massive gust of wind that nearly put them on their backs, they bowed against it, shielding there face from the force. When they emerged on the other side, there was not a breeze to be felt. Something rattled behind them. Jon turned and yelped in surprise. Sansa looked to see a dragon perched on the boulders, staring down at them. The weight of it had loosened the rocks in the cave. There was someone on his back, and the dragon's head moved out of the way, and a white icy looking fellow was revealed. The night King."Ruuun!" Jon announced, and the wolf ran south with Jon at her tail, in the direction of the wall. They heard the beat of its wings, as it took off. Little Jon was sure Sansa saw the menacing walker on it's back as well, hence why she had gladly obeyed.

Luckily in this world the wall was so close, it was nearly on top of them. The dragon's shadow cast over them, and they threw themselves through a hole that had opened up for them. Bran was revealed to be on the other side of a door at the hole, and he closed it immediately. Sealing them safely in the wall. Jon gasped for breath as his young cousin helped him up, Bran dusted the frost from his knees. "I see you've met the night King."

"We met in battle, how do you come to meet him?" Jon rasped, he felt Sansa at his heel.

"I met him in world similar to this, while snooping." It sounded like it was going to be a happy discussion, except- "I wish I hadn't, I have been marked by him- he can follow me everywhere. Hence why I'm a little cautious coming back to Winterfell." Bran sat unsteadily on a frosted rock. "Everything's my fault."

"Don't be daft."

"-It's my greenseeing, my ability lead to my obsession with coming over the wall- coming here has brought nothing but trouble, I sent away Rickon to the Umbers, so he'd be safe...he wasn't." He waited to be berated, and it never came. Almost as if he wanted to be told off. "I got Hodor killed, Jon, Hodor."

"Hodor's dead?" Jon gaped, he shared it with Sansa, who yawned with all the mounting stress, it ended with an adorable whine. "It couldn't possibly have been your fault." He eased, clasping a small hand on the younger lad's shoulder. "The whole realm is at war, there are bound to be casualties and fatalities."

Bran tried to take comfort from this, but it was too raw. He listened to the scratching on the door. "The dragon outside was an ice dragon, that's why it has a bluish hue, like what old nan used to tell us about, it's the white walker's weapon."

"So much for it trying to protect me, huh?" Jon winced, he must be the only Targaryen to be completely afraid of Dragons.

"It was bringing you to the night king, it was bringing us both to the night king." Bran said with conviction.

"To kill us?"

"I don't know...but imagine what's worst than death..."

The wolf howled, it startled both boys. They forgot she was there, and a wolf. She was staring at the door- there were cracks creeping along the surface. Jon's first thought was that Sansa's howl could have done that, but then he realised she was giving them a warning.

"We need to get out now, this thing's going to come down." Jon looked down into the hollow. "Does this go straight through?"

"Yes, don't you recognise it?"

Jon was vexed. "Is it...the old maintenance tunnel?" He noted Sansa had already taken off down the hollow. "Sansa, heel!" She didn't, so the two boys scarpered after her.

* * *

Sansa heard the door open, and immediately thought. _He was early._ The Queen saw red. "Lady Melisandre, what can I do for you?"

"It's the other way around, your grace." She shut the door behind her, a playful smile on her lips. Melisandre meandered to the Queen's seat. "I know about today."

 _Seven hells, why would the King tell anyone?_ "What's that?" Sansa said devoid of any emotion. "Do you know the weather?"

"I saw it in the King's eyes."

"The weather?" _That's right, fain ignorance._

"No...well, I saw a storm." She cocked her foreign brow at that. "A storm in his eyes, a storm that saw an end; a pink sunset."

Sansa exercised her neck, growing impatient. "A Riddle or poetry?..Was it the _kill face,_ you speak of?" She posed, innocently.

"It wasn't dissimilar to the _kill face_ , but it wasn't long lasting." The witch was having fun milking it, watching her Queen play dumb. "It was heated and jovial."

The younger woman rapped her fingers on the desk, she pouted in a thoughtful manner. "Right...And what do you want?"

"To help."

"No." Sansa finalized, picking up her quill. "You've done plenty." She pretended to write. "You can go about your day."

Melisandre lingered. _She did that a lot, she wasn't an obedient little subject._ Sansa blinked and inclined, not even asking, she didn't need to, the witch knew she would be allowed to speak.

"Your grace, I have gifts for you." She dipped, lowering herself as if she were talking to a little girl. "Two gifts to be precise." Her voice edged with sweetness, and Sansa recoiled at the oncoming hand that wanted to adorn her cheek. _No one will touch her, no one but her husband._ "I have hid them in the room, you must find them."

"Is this a trick? I bet there is nothing new in this room." Sansa retaliated, gazing about her. "And if there is, why turn it into a game?"

"You like games."

She took an annoyed deep breath. "No I don't."

"You like to tease."

The girl shook her head. "You don't know me at all."

"Or maybe I know you too well?" She rose from her stoop, towering over the Queen. "From your days of being a captive of Lord Baelish, you learnt how to keep a man's favour... you bewitch him with your beauty, you tease him with promises."

Sansa rose abruptly, nearly butting heads with the witch. "How dare you?! I do nothing of the sort!" She was angry, but tears prickled her eyes, _she was a good girl._ "I don't tease, really I don't..." _Oh she was about to blub_ \- she stifled it. "I may lie, but I'm not lying about this, I just...don't find it comfortable to express myself, and I don't seduce...I've never seduced Jon." She sank back down onto the lounger, she added a bit more pained. "Tonight will be the night. I can do it, I can endure the worst case scenario-"

"-But Jon-"

"-I know, Jon isn't the worst case scenario, he does care about me, as I do him. He wouldn't intentionally hurt me..."

Melisandre prodded her. "But, there is a but..."

"But, if it ends up feeling the same...how do I go about telling my husband; that was awful...you felt like Ramsay." She gestured profusely. "I wouldn't be able to, but I would have to endure the ritual for the rest of my life. " She cast her eye to the bed. "The not knowing how disappointing it could be has kept me going." Sansa explained, to the best of her ability. "Is that...'being a tease' to you?"

The red witch managed to ensnare her face. "Now that is a truth. " She looked sated. "Now give me another truth..."

Sansa felt she had poured her heart out, she slumped against the lounger. "What more is there?"

"Despite the worries of the 'ritual' as you call it, are you attracted to your husband...enough to want to devour him?"

"How rude of you?!" Sansa snapped, while she was languorously sprawled on her seating.

Melisandre smiled knowingly. "That's right, get all defensive to hide the truth."

Sansa opened and closed her mouth, she looked shrewdly at the woman before her. "You little..." -Before stuttering to a halt. "I'm not going to argue this morning, I have no energy."

"That's all down to mood, once you're in the mood- the energy will follow." The witch was toying with her sleeves absently. "He put quite a show on for you last night."

"If you can call bathing..." She skirted around the word titillation, and the red priestess barked as if she had heard. Sansa flung her arm over her eyes, poetically. "Enough, just go." She peeked at the red woman leering at her triumphantly. "Why are you...?" _Insufferable_. "Fine -He's like a ruddy marble statue." She muttered devoutly through her sleeve. "Devouring is not an option...I would surely break my teeth on that valyrian muscle!" Her exclamation dissolved into animalistic groan. "Go away!" Her voice got juvenile and bratty.

The witch laughed, that had been so pitiful. She calmed quite quickly, watching the Queen fret over spilled secrets. "Look for your gift, and don't sneer at it."

That unmasked the girl's face. "Is it a lemon cake?"

The witch frowned, and looked shifty. "Damn, that would have been a better option, arr well. "

* * *

Davos stared from the sidelines. Something was different. A calm sort of different. The King was his usual demanding self, but there was a pleasantness that followed. He was ruffling all the squires' hair after sparring with them, he normally reserved this for the under 10s, but he was doing it to them all, even men that were taller than him. "Alright, take a break!" He left the training session with an open expression, which made him very approachable.

"Your grace, I see the worsening climate hasn't dampened your spirits."

Jon had his thumbs tucked into his belt, he kept running along the edge as if about to unbuckle himself, but he didn't. "I'm use to the cold, I won't be cold for long though..."

 _Hm_. Davos was deadpan. "Right..." He didn't fill in the blanks. "Because...you have warm blood?"

The King looked distracted again, casting his eye over the courtyard. "I need meat, lot's of it." He grunted and stalked off.

The advisor was forced into trotting after him. "Breakfast not satisfactory, your grace?- There was plenty of meat on your plate."

"I need more, and some nuts." He turned into the main hall, they both tried to walk through the kitchens' door at once, and there was a slight kafuffle of shoulders bumping into other shoulders, and jarring door frames, before they went single file. He started to dither around the kitchen staff as they were working, they weren't expecting him, so there was a bit of scatiness as his presence became known. Jon was reaching for stuff off the benches and popping some into his mouth. "You there." He gained a maid's attention while chewing. "Can you have one of those lemon cakes prepared?"

"Your grace, we are waiting for a consignment of lemons, we sent out stockist to collect them, he won't be back for a couple of months, sorry your grace." She dipped to curtsy and excused herself.

The King turned to his advisor, his face no longer sated. _He will see no tongue on his stomach tonight_. "Fucking seven hells." He chuntered. "I knew it was going too smoothly, that's really going to slow things down."

"Perhaps some carrot cake would suffice?" Davos suggested, still trying to fathom what was going on.

"You know Sansa likes lemony things." Jon eased, walking out of the kitchens, with the older gent in hot pursuit.

"I see, is she lethargic without them?"

"You could say that." A servant bobbed as they went by, something he had grown accustomed to. "It sweetens her." He added very vaguely. _But in actual fact; it sweetens him, for her, for that curious mouth of hers._ "Gods."

"Is the cake an attempt at wooing?"

"Nosy beggar, aren't you?" The King chortled, wandering outside. "It's not an attempt, I think I'm past that stage, I'm overdue something, and it's coming..." He looked to the skies. "It's not even noon yet, so I'd say..." He looked frustrated, his face screwing up. "Hours, I have hours yet." _Too far away._

Davos was finally piecing it together. "Am I to take it, your wife is in the mood?" The younger gent got a bit sheepish, and nodded with a shrug. "Are you sure, your grace? You've made this mistake before."

"I know." Guilt was rife in Jon's voice and body "I just have to try and not be aggressive, I can't get worked up before she does-" He dipped his voice as another servant passed by, they stalled to bob at him, and he wafted them away. "Why do they always stop?- Can't they just carry on, pretend I'm not here?"

"They can't do that."

"I should make a royal decree, that forbids the bobbing and curtsying unless at a formal or social event. It gets ridiculous after a while." Snow started to fall around them. "I'll also make a royal decree that makes days shorter."

"I don't think that'll work, my king." He knew what he was getting at.

He heard his King sigh. "Why does _it_ have to be a damn nocturnal activity for women?" Jon was relentless.

"Carnal moon, that's why." Davos gave him a firm smile. "But don't be surprised if she changes her mind, women do that a lot. The day is still young, your grace."

"Yes...that's what frightens me, plenty of time for things to fall to shit." The younger man retorted gruffly, walking aggressively towards a queue of squires, whom were armed with shields.


	35. Chapter 35

_I'm in my new house, no internet, I've had to steal wifi._

* * *

Sansa was keen on finding this gift. First place she checked was under her bed. _You're so gullible! There is no gift!_ She sent her maidservant to do errands while she searched, she made it clear she would be eating in her room today. She felt extremely self conscious that everybody knew about her activities for this evening, and everybody would stare at her- judging her for leaving a bedding so long. _Denying a King his needs, and an heir_.

Sansa spent a good half hour scouring her chambers. She tore through her wardrobes and drawers, chests, and racks, looking for anything new or out of place. _She supposed it was fun, looking for things, it took her mind off the wait_. The bed loomed again, she had already checked, nothing, she was about to rear up from her low stoop when she saw the corner of something poking down from a slat. Sansa scrutinized it quizzingly. A burlap was sticking out of the slats that held up the mattress, she yanked it out from under the frame. Something was in the burlap, the Queen tipped it onto the hope chest, in case it was anything that could harm her.

A fairly light weight material floated out. At first glance, she thought it was a veil curtain, like the ones she used to see in King's Landing. Then she spotted the cord tailing off of it; a silk ribbon. _Was it a head veil?- A little late, she was already married._ She lifted it, and it fell into shape. It was a nightdress, as delicate as you could find them. Pretty, but certainly not suitable for winter. Sansa held it to herself, and stroked it down her body, to size it up. It was long, which was how she liked them. It was soft, and more importantly she could see designs of her embroidery on her current dress- through it, which proved the nightie was sheer. _If she wore this it would be like wearing nothing at all; she'd be cold, and naked._ A garment such as this held no purpose, but to advertise, she likened it to what whores wore in brothels- but this had sleeves and covered legs. _Was that any better?_

She needed to have a better look, she dropped the garment on the bed, and began unclasping her outer dress. There was a tap at her door. _Oop_. Sansa hurriedly bundled the nightie under her pillow. "Come in." As the door opened, she quickly clasped up her dress. It was just one of her maidservants, bringing her lunch. _A reminder of the time of day._ There was so much to do. "Roisin, could you draw me up a bath?-Thank you." It was more of a request than a question, but as always she felt obliged to say thank you.

She ate first. Probably not a good idea to do that before bathing, _but who cares?_ She watched her maid come in and out with a single bucket. _If only she had a big strong man to do it for her..._ She witnessed the maid skid slightly while filling the tub. _Oh gods...the oil you spilt last night._ She had to stifle laughter as the maid continued her duties regardless of the scare. The maid went to fetch another pale of water, _it was more satisfying watching her husband do it._ Sansa was just about to retrieve her secret nightie when she saw something white and hairy wander through the door. _Aww._ Her husband's faithful companion was sniffing about the floor, she quickly and craftily peered into the hall to see if her husband was lurking. Nothing.

Sansa stooped with her hand out to the big fluff ball. "I bet you're looking for food, all gone I'm afraid, sweetie." The Queen toyed with his ear, he drew his head back and up to lick the remnants of her lunch from her fingers. She rose, watching him skirt about the room, sniffing. "No food, Ghost." He circled around her, and jumped up her dress. "Woaw steady." His front legs suddenly gripped her tight about her waist. _Uh oh._ The direwolf then proceeded to hump her. "No!- Bad! Ghost, get down!" She fought with him, pulling at his paws, they were like vices. Sansa walked forward to try and separate from him, but he followed, unaffected, humping her like a stallion. "Gods!" Finally she did a twisting motion and he dropped. _And_ _Good job too_ \- Roisin, the maid returned with the water, and froze at the sight of the hairy beast on his way out after his deed. Her Queen looked very flustered, shaking her fist at the retreating wolf.

"Your grace...did he attack you?"

"You know what, I think he did." She caught her breath. " A playful attack...nothing to bother the King about." The young Queen was embarrassed, _thank the gods nobody saw that._ She waved her hand to shrug off the incident. "It's fine, really, he took me by surprise that's all." She tipped her head to the bath, and the maid continued.

 _Right, she was going to do something before she was rudely and crudely interrupted._ Sansa retreated to her divider with her nightie to try it on while her maid was busy. She removed her dress that was now covered in fur, and got naked. She slipped into the soft airy garment, it seemed to float down her body, so she had to brush it down to get it passed her knees quicker. That's when she looked in the mirror; _Oh_. Sansa hardly looked in the mirror when she was naked, but this garment allowed her to be dressed and naked. _Gods._ The light from her window made the gown glow, along with the skin underneath it. It made her blush, she quickly pulled her lower small clothes on underneath. _Better, but you can still see breasts._ _Which was the lesser of the two evils; mound or breast?_ Asking someone wasn't an option for her.

She twirled, and watched it float outwards, away from her ankles before gradually settling. _So pretty_ , _Melisandre had finally got something right, along with resurrecting Jon._

"Your grace? I have drawn your bath."

The Queen froze. "Alright thank you, that will be all, I'll do the rest." She heard hesitation, and then the girl finally left. The handmaidens didn't think a Queen should lift a finger, _they probably didn't think she was capable_. She pulled off the night gown and crossed the room naked, _very naughtily_ , just to bolt the door. She then retreated to the bathing chamber, to indulge in her ablutions.

Sansa sank into her hot bath, she went down all the way in, so she could wet her hair and face. She rose up, rebirthed and clean. _The best feeling in the world_. She hugged her knees, resting her head on them. It wasn't the most elegant and languorous of positions, it was very contained and child-like, but it gave her upper back time to breathe, before she would settle against the edge of the tub. She closed her eyes.

She reflected on her childhood again; bathing rituals with her mother present, and Lady Stark being poised to brush her daughter's coppery hair. Sansa would read fairytales at night, trying to read them to her sister, but to no avail. She had been living an idealist existence, believing she would grow naturally into the perfect lady and her life would fall into place. She imagined being courted by a lord, or a prince after visiting Winterfell. Or introduced at a royal court where she would be selected and groomed to be a Queen. But her favourite fantasy was being at a festival, with world delicacies, dancing, singing, and tournaments, including a tourney, where great heroes and warriors would compete. Their reward would be glory and flowers, which would be passed onto a lady they would select from the crowd. Her head rose from her knees pensively.

 _Rhaegar chose Lyanna, the former daughter of Winterfell. A Targaryen chose a Stark_. _History did like to repeat itself_. As a child she heard from small folk about what had happened, the anger and humiliation at Harrenhal, the kidnapping, the rape and murder of Lyanna. But in her own household with her family, it was scarcely mentioned. _Strange_. A young Sansa would end up fabricating her own version of events in her story obsessed mind; She would romanticize Rhaegar, whisking Lyanna away from her fiancé- whom she did not love. Lyanna in her mind, willingly went with the Prince where they lived in a tower surrounded by flowers. _But what did actually happen?- Is it possible her story was true, and it resulted in Jon?_ It would be a bittersweet ending. It occurred to her the story still went on, in fact, she was in it. _What an odd thought._

The Queen lay back in the tub, she cast her hand to the side of the tub, her oil was there, and...the soap. She blinked and stared as a very vivid image came to mind. _Cuss_. _It wouldn't be proper to use that soap_. But even the oil brought imagery to her mind, like curly dark hair slicked back. _Cuss_. The bath itself held a memory, perhaps the surface of the bath held traces of him, that now tainted her water, the water that was now warming her intimate areas. _He was technically inside her now, well...oh- my- the pores she meant._ Sansa was frothing something in her hand, and she realised she had selected the soap. _Oo_. The soap held pieces of barley and leaf, so it was textured for exfoliation, and more importantly it didn't slip in her hand, even when squeezed- it only shifted a little. _Hm, interesting._

She rubbed the froth over herself, massaging it over her skin, she was thorough. And Sansa splashed it all away, until her skin squeaked upon rubbing. She reached for her pumice stone and rubbed vigorously over the areas that mattered- the ones in need of beautifying. The Queen worked tirelessly for half an hour until her skin was red, smooth and clear. By that stage her water was now lukewarm and murky with her efforts. It was as satisfying as completing an embroidery pattern. _Perfection takes time_. She climbed out of her tub so she could use her reserved buckets on her fiery mane. Sansa didn't spend too much time on her hair, since her neck was beginning to ache from the stoop she was at. When she was done she felt as fresh as a spring. The part that annoyed her was the drying. If she put on any garments too soon, she would dampen the fabric with an area she had neglected with her towel. _Oh woe is me, my bottom is still wet_. She sat by the fire with her sheet, allowing everything to dry via air and sheet. Her hair required more attention, she strained and rubbed with her towel, until it was simply moist. It could now be left to air dry.

The Queen heard the door jolt, and the bolt rattle. That was either her husband, or the handmaiden coming back to check on her. She came into the bedchamber to investigate, and it happened again. _Clunk, Click_. The fact that they hadn't given up, told her it was Jon. A handmaiden would have checked, realized her Queen was busy, and left.

"Sansa- Door." He orated, he had a tone.

"Jon, ablutions." She said, mirroring his style. The Queen meandered to her divider to slip into her winter robe. The door rattled again. _Did he not listen?_ She huffed so he would hear. "You're way too early, come back later." She flicked the hair from her robe.

"I've come... to pick up my gloves." He rumbled.

She came from behind the divider and headed to the door. _Wait, what are you doing?! Think girl, think!_ Sansa smiled behind her balled up hand. "The ones you left with this morning?"

"Yeah...Oh." Jon had slipped up.

 _He was bad at this, she needed to teach him how to become a better liar._ She waited, her face aching from her smile.

There was an amusing pause, filled with creaking leather, he was probably flexing those incriminating gloves, or taking them off to conceal. "No...my...other gloves." He tried.

 _He had one pair of gloves_. And she clamped a hand over her mouth, she was laughing silently into her palm.

"Sansa...please."

 _Aww._ She composed herself, so her laughter wasn't evident in her voice. "I can't pass you gloves that don't exist."

There was that beautiful silence again that was totally Jon, brooding. "My tunic is-"

"What do you want, Jon?" Sansa could almost hear the cogs in his brain.

Silence, followed by a sigh of resignation. "Isn't it obvious?" His tone was juvenile.

"It's as clear as day, Jon." Condescension was a skill to her. "It's day time, your absence would be very noticeable, and besides I'm in the middle of my ablutions."

"Are you naked?"

 _He's keen_. She tightened her cord, and pulled at her collar. "No." She said indignantly, _she didn't know why?_ It sounded like an accusation, _she didn't walk around naked_. "None of your business, this is my personal routine."

"So you are decent..."

Sansa huffed, this was getting tedious. "Yes, I have my robe on."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I know you." Her voice was of a woman scorned. _She also knew Ghost's mood mirrored his_ _owner's_. "Come back later." She tried to be final. _But perhaps she was being unreasonable?_ \- But she felt like a bride before a wedding; jittery and superstitious. _He'll spoil it._ "Too soon, Jon, too soon."

"You..." Sansa strained her ears, wondering what he could possibly say to get into her room- _and into her_. "-Haven't changed your mind, 'ave yer'?" She heard him ask.

"No, of course I haven't."The Queen said immediately. _Oh open the bloody door._ She crossed the distance and unbolted the door, he opened it before she had a chance to, he had a fast reaction time. Jon and Sansa stared at one another, he was partially on the way in- sizing her up, but she held the door firm. "Jon, don't come in if you think the time is nigh." She warned, and he dithered, his head dropping- _in guilt supposedly._

"You look nice." He blinked up at her after a moment's pause.

"And?" She shrugged, _did he expect her to drop her robe and fall into his arms?_

"And?- Well you're lovely enough, fancy -"

"-I'm...in the middle of something." She had forgotten the proper way to respond to a compliment. She gave him a quizzing look. _And now...You leave._

"Gis' us a kiss." That was a proper broad northern request, _no one could possibly refuse_. His tone was a form of manipulation- devoid of any intention, and completely innocent. "Go on." He did a coaxing head tip. _He was clever, he was using a brother's tone._

Sansa tightened the grip on her cord. " _Gis' us_ your cheek."

He smiled. "Preference?"

The Queen was confused. "Your... left?"

"Buttock or face?"

Sansa was agape and appalled. "Oh!" She pushed him away playfully, he was amused _._ "Your kiss has been denied." She was very Queenly with that.

"Well I've seen your face, so now I'm sated...I will count the hours..." _The feeling was sort of mutual_. And her husband stepped back out into the hall and marched off, she watched with mild interest. _She liked seeing him walk._

 _Now she was the guilty one, he just wanted to visit her before..._ It took her awhile to close the door again, this time she left it unbolted. _She was such a girl, she felt like swooning again...for 'cuss's sake!_ She approached her vanity looking at herself with distrust, her hair still looked ratty- _easy to correct._ Her eye -line dipped, her nipples were protruding, she didn't know what to do with them _\- except maybe press on them_. She curiously put pressure on them to flatten, they were sensitive- _a strange sort of sensitive_. Sansa snared her hand away as if they had pricked her, then settled on picking up her brush to detangle her hair ready for another session of fire sitting.

* * *

Davos saw Jon coming through the door of the main hall. "How was she?"

 _Beautiful._ "Fine, she was just doing her daily routine- she was very calm, very warm, I didn't want to disturb her, so I err...excused myself."

"Good good."

Jon settled down at the table, and picked up some bread, he tore into fiercely, he looked very content. His advisor and himself had a bit of a staring match while consuming their scraps. "What is it?"

"Did she give you a parting gift, your grace?"

Jon snorted. "This is Sansa." He found some meat at the table. _Meat for strength_. "She sure has a way with words though." The King held warmth in his eyes, which extended to the whole of his face, the smile remained as he was eating.

"You'll see what her words are worth tonight."

"I couldn't have put it better myself." The younger gent rumbled in response, he chewed his morsel staring into space heatedly.

Davos read into it. "Goodness me, she was dressed, wasn't she?" Amused by the man's concentrated eating.

"She was getting ready." _For me._

"I see." A pink cheeky grin adorned the advisor's features. _Oh to be young again._ "With women, that normally takes forever...and there's really no need."

"I know." He concurred enthusiastically. "Why don't they just splash themselves and then dry?" He eyed the other people in court, and inclined towards his companion. "I'd have her, covered in mud and blood." They shared a stoatish grin. "How long have I got?"

"Wait for the moon, your grace."

* * *

She felt nauseous, that was the nerves. She needed to write to soothe her, so she opened the drawer to her desk.

 _What the..?_

Sansa pulled out a phallic shaped yellow object, it felt waxy and rubbery to touch and had a peculiar bend, there was a ribbon around it as if it were a gift. _Melisandre_. The gift was something organic, so she sniffed it- it didn't really smell of anything. _Wait, it had a familiar scent_. She wasn't sure if it was edible. The Queen tapped it against the table, it wasn't hollow, by squeezing it, she noted it had a softer centre, but it was unyielding, it had thick skin to protect its contents. It had black edges, one tip was fuzzy, and she brushed it against her cheek. _Tickly. But what was it for?_ She assessed the phallic object was supposed to represent a cock. She put it down with distaste. _It was crude, and didn't belong in a royal chamber._ She got the strange impression she was supposed... to use it, for practice... _As a warm up tool? -Ew._ She put it back in the drawer. _Nope_.

The young Queen retrieved her ink and quill, she wrote down every feeling to try and get a sense of what she was going to do. It was just anxiety that bled through the page, she reasoned she must choose a garment she was more comfortable in- and keep it on for the duration of the...activity. So Sansa had opted for the winter nightie, along with her robe. She would be dressed and warm, _and completely decent –_ She wrote contently...until-"Hells!" She spilled ink on her robes. "No no no no no!" She quickly removed her robe in the hopes of salvaging the winter nightie beneath- it had bled through. "Woe!" _This had been an act of the gods_. She discarded her faithful nightie and slipped into to the 'veil' instead. _Oh lord_. Just seeing herself in it reminded her she was going to be breached multiple times. She put the ink away, she wasn't about to ruin another gown, _or else she would be doing it in the raw_.

The young Queen retreated into the other chamber, she inclined on her lounger, her arm over her eyes, her feet bare curving off the area of lounger that had no back. Sansa couldn't lie in her bed at that moment, nor look at it- _too jittery_. That, and she didn't want to get bedsores, she was a fidgeter. She lifted her arm from her eyes and saw her reflection in the mirror, she looked very languorous, inclined on her seat- like something out of an oil painting. But she doubted any maiden in an oil painting would have a history as horrific as hers.

She craned her neck over the high part of the back of the lounger, through the window she saw darkness, and glowing blue clouds, they were slowly uncovering a stark moon. _Sigh_. Sansa dropped back into her lounger. The problem with lying down in this comfortable seat, she got sleepy. _No time for sleepiness._ She didn't remember closing her eyes, not until she heard a bolt sliding across a door...

 _Bump_ _Click Clunk._

She opened her eyes, recognizing the noise, she blinked blearily at the fireplace, and rose slowly, her eyes peering over the arm of the seat. _Yes, it was indeed him_. She had a skulky manner, whereas her husband- she observed- had a swagger. Jon must have checked she was present before locking the door, since he knew where she was straight away. His dark eyes locked with hers through the doorway and he made a show of removing his scabbard. It clattered on her hope chest and she jarred at the sound.

Jon swaggered slowly into the room. _Gods_. The young Queen sat upright from her lounged position steadily, clamping her hands to edge of her seat. The air that followed in his wake was warm, and static inducing, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end with apprehension- _and excitement_. Her eyes were ahead of herself, she was already studying the place he was going to occupy, and when he filled it- she was staring at crotch, and the bottom of a doublet. _Shuddery sigh._ His shadow nearly had her at a swoon, but it was the badly quelled throaty noise she heard that sent her aquiver. Sansa had the nightie to thank for Jon's adour, she could feel the lusty gaze. Sansa watched his hand move from his side, and she got the impression his first port of call was her round bust, but his hand diverted to cup her upper neck and chin, gently guiding her to look up at him.

The action called for some words of encouragement, in fact she longed to hear him speak, to break the tension. Jon didn't, he only spoke with the storm in his eyes. _Husband_. His callous thumb slid up and over her mouth, pressing on it with interest- gauging her desire. _What now...?_ Her lips pursed slightly, and kissed the imposing thumb. This pleased him, he moved to sit next to her, his hand dropping from her face. He was close. The King sat in a way his front was pressing into her side. He must have been sitting on one of his legs to give him a bit of height, for she felt his knee behind her buttock, the other over taking her knee. Sansa sensed Jon staring at her, burning the side of her face and neck, among other areas that piqued his interest. _What now..?_

The Queen felt the warmth of a hand hovering close to her stomach, poised to claw. The nightie wasn't enough of a barrier in regards to temperature, or decency, it wouldn't be any trouble for him. That hand she detected was there for titillation, in fact everything so far seemed like a form of titillation. _How dare he...drag this out, she has been anxious all day!_ She laid a hand on his thigh, without hesitation, feeling the girth- _Oh_ , _that's hard...the...the muscle in the leg, of course._ Her thumb inched to his inner thigh, and he blast out an exhale, her hair moved slightly with the force of it. The King's hand moved, up...up...up...to her hair, he swept it to one side, deliberately raking his fingers over her neck as he did, bringing the mane over the opposite shoulder. Now her neck was bare nearest to him.

There was an expectant pause, filled with careful breathing, something Sansa felt was going to happen a lot tonight. She felt a tugging sensation, there was weight on the ribbon of her nightie, it was being pulled down and away. She felt the knot come undone with a ping, and the collar become agape. Jon's hand then gently fingered the fabric to one side, exposing her entire shoulder. A soft moist mouth caressed her flesh, she felt the fuzz of his beard, scratching her skin, in a ticklish manner. _Oh_. Her head fell forward to contain herself...His mouth was on the move, raking and pinching along the top of her shoulder. _Oh kisses, wet kisses, where the tongue flicks out to taste the skin._ His tongue trailed up her neck, since her head was down, he didn't have far to go, he got to her jaw, and moved up to her fairy ears, and enveloped them, licking the structure, and she squirmed a little, for it tickled. His hand cupped her jaw, holding her steady. Jon then travelled across her cheek, he had to dip his head to get to her, her reflexes had curled her head away, his beard tickling her into girlish squirms. When he reached the corner of her mouth, his tongue poked out to skim the edge. _Like knocking on a locked door_. She murmured at him, it spurred him to plant his mouth over hers. Sansa's head finally came up to reciprocate. A starved kiss was shared; greedy, and wet, with few breaks for air. Her hands were about his face, _where they belonged._ Her hand snuck to the leather band that tied back his hair, and she set it free, to tousle it.

His arm circled her back, the other crammed under her knees, he lifted her up off the lounger into a cradle lift. Sansa clung to him, and she broke off the kiss to see where they were going. _It was obvious where; a grand bed was where Kings and Queens were made._

She was gently lowered onto her side of the bed, she assumed he would go to the other side, but he remained standing, looking over her, the longer he did it- the redder Sansa became. _Probably numbering all her parts up_ _for attack_. Her husband's hand went to the clasps of his doublet. This was further titillation she could not stand, she reached for his hand, and he blinked and stalled, wondering if something had changed. The young woman pulled her legs over the side of the bed sitting up in front of him, Jon appeared concerned- she was about to escape him. _There was really no need to be, she just hoped he wasn't attached to that doublet._ Sansa reached up, and grasped the meeting edges of the doublet, and ripped it open. Clasps could be heard detaching and pinging off the walls.

"Seven hells." He finally rasped, extremely exasperated his wife had done that. "I suppose this is revenge for your skiirr-" She laid her hands on him, inside the top, stroking the ripples and contouring. Sansa was thorough when it came to mapping out muscle. Her hands crept to his sides and she yanked him forwards, burying her face inside the doublet, kissing it hard enough it could have reshaped him. A curious tongue was at play, he tasted like tears, his abdomen flexed under her ministrations. She heard him rumble a sigh, and when the Queen stole a heated glance at him, she saw only jaw line and stubble, for he had thrown his head back in euphoria. "Gods Sansa."

Her chin chafed against the cord of his breeches, she separated from his midriff to stare at the lacing. She sensed him watching her, his head must have lolled forwards. She could feel her cheeks flushing, embarrassed and anxious over the appendage she could not see, but needed to be freed. His hand grasped her chin and tipped it towards him.

"One thing at a time, ey?" He soothed, thumbing her skin.

She nodded timidly, and his hands suddenly descended and hooked under her armpits. "Eeep." She squeaked as he lifted her to bring her to the centre of the bed, he applied sufficient pressure to coax her to lie down. He reared up to free his arms from the doublet, and tossed it carelessly across the room. Sansa was waiting for the inevitable, for her to be stripped from the waist down, but instead he covered her with his body, reinitiating their kiss.

His skin was warm through her nightie, her nipples prickled against the veil and his pecs. _That was sufficient stimulation, any more would kill her._ Jon let her take air, as he attacked the neck- no bit of skin was left untouched or dry. He began to slide, his hands going with him. Sansa's collar was still agape, and he took advantage of this and tugged it down to kiss down her sternum, he took a chance and palmed her breasts through the cloth, kneading them. _Gauging their size? She assumed men did this to see if a lady was truly a woman, of maturity._ She hummed, his thumb skimmed the nipple, deliberately trying to firm it up further. _This could undo her._ Jon threw caution to the wind and tugged the nightie sideways, unveiling a rosy tipped milky breast, and he kissed it with reckless abandon, like a hungry babe suckling. _Oh my Gods._ Her breathing was so erratic, her chest cavity and accompanying bust was pushing against his mouth and chaffing against his beard. _There was too much stimulation._ She was stroking the skin on his back, her nails dug in a little, trying to quell the urge to cry out. She had no control over what she was doing, and she wasn't going to halt the proceedings just because she was...erm... _ticklish?_

He released her breast with a pop, and dragged himself lower, leaving her breast moist and raw, travelling ...down...down. His feet were now on the ground, but he was still leaning over, on her like a wolf. Jon nuzzled her stomach, whispering nonsensical things into her button, but that was merely a distraction. His hands had reached the hem, and he was slowly inching it up, craftily watching her, for signs of panic, or worse; lost consciousness. The hem was over her knee now, going up her thigh- _gods, he couldn't wait to look...and taste_ \- he kept the hem and his hands from her skin, so she wouldn't feel it, not until... _ahem_. Despite being focused on kissing the stomach and tugging up the nightie hem, he could still smell desire on her. _This was how it should be; desire should overpower fear_. Jon had to roll his lips to keep from drooling.

Her husband was paying particular attention to her stomach, the steam of his breath was soaking through. She heard mutterings and wondered if he was praying. _Oh sweet Jon, asking for blessings from the-_ The top of her thighs felt cold, she peered over her breasts to see his hands were under her hem, she was nearly exposed. Her head dropped back onto the bed. _Just let him do what he needs._ She covered the breast that was still exposed, out of habit. The movement caused Jon to look up.

"There's no need for modesty, sweetheart, we shall be content and as bare as the gods made us soon enough." She felt his hand creep over hers, tentatively, trying to get her to unveil that bust. "If you still feel uncomfortable, cover them with your hands, rub them if need be." _They were too sensitive for such ministrations-_ _unless that was the whole idea, trying to swoon her?_

Sansa could feel her skirt still moving, she looked up again, this time Jon saw her and knew he had been caught out and froze. He smiled feebly, finally allowing his hands to settle on her milky white thighs, they spasmed under his touch. His hands appeared bronze in comparison to her skin. "Trust me." His voice was laden with lust, _which wasn't the best tone to use_ _when asking for trust._

She watched him roll the veil painfully slowly up the rest of her thigh, the cold reached her... _there_. It was her turn to mutter nonsensical things, into the back of her hand, trying to calm herself. _He could see everything_. Sansa felt him stroke over her mound as if it were some timid animal, his thumb brushing over the little tuff of red hair and over the protrusion of pink flesh. She watched, reddening- biting the inside of her lips as if she were about to cry. Jon descended, both sets of eyes shutting briefly as he gently kissed the bud. _Oh, his mouth._ His tongue dipped into the flesh, lapping at the petals. _Oh..._ He plundered with his implement of divine... _Cuss_. She blinked rapidly- a cry getting lodged in her throat. _This was certainly more than a tickle..._ Her head inched off the bed to peek, she saw him study her over her mound with hooded eyes, and she flushed and dropped her head back. _He was going to kill her_. Sansa found herself licking her lips, as if imitating the motions he was making _. You are crazy, that was an impossible manoeuvre._ He was treating her flower like it was her mouth. _Gods, he was thorough- that tongue was so warm, velvety and wet-_ It made her teeth chatter. On top of that, she could feel scratchy beard on her inner thighs. _Oh Jon._

Her hands gripped the sheets tightly as if she was going to fall off the edge of Westeros. Her thighs were trembling, she couldn't comprehend whether she wanted to snap her legs together to trap his head there forever, or to spread them further so he could reach her core. His tongue was spooning now- _How ?-Wha- Oooo gods!_ Except comprehension wasn't something she could do at that moment, she couldn't think, let alone reason...only feel, and bleat meekly. _Oh gods... she was making... those pitiful sounds._ "Aaayyee." Her long fingers released the sheets, they were separating from the mattress, becoming askew. Her shaky hands hovered uselessly over her body, before one descended to grip a handful of his hair. Jon grunted his ardour and she felt it vibrate through her. _Mercy_. Sansa's mouth pulled back from her teeth, and her eyes squeezed shut momentarily. _Oh gods_. There was a growing sensation, originating from where his tongue was pressing her nub against pubic bone, surging upwards towards her core. "OH... MY-". It felt like she was about to sneeze but with her ovaries, she lost her ability to speak and the muscles in her face completely tensed- Jon suddenly retracted his tongue and left the warmth of her flower and her thighs, rising up and over her stomach. _What's he doing?!_ \- Finally able to think. _Something was about to happen...and he stopped?!_

He drew in his lips to savour the taste, looking across and down at her darkly. "How was that, precious?" He drawled in a boastful manner. Her hand was still clenched in his hair, and she tried to goad him back down, and he laughed at the wonderful pressure being applied to his crown. He brought his knees on to the bed either side of her, he pinched at the nightie and flapped it. "Is this comin' off then, or what?"

 _It was pointless now, he had seen everything._ Sansa pushed herself up with her elbows, and her husband braced himself on his hands to push him to a stand, to give her room. As she got up she could feel the slipperiness between her legs. _Oh warrior's tongue, kiss the peach for many more nights to come_. She shakily began to pull the nightie upwards, pulling her head through the collar, wiggling the material out from under her buttocks. The Queen was in a tube of veil, _how apt for a blushing bride._ Sansa could see him watching with intent, all the while making a start to unlacing his breeches. _The breaching_. She had stalled, and Jon assumed she was stuck- so he pulled the nightie from her over her head, her hair tumbling down her bare back and chest. Eyes and air went straight to her skin, the charged ardent air that Jon had generated- came at her at full force. She quivered at it, seeing his chest rise and fall at the same pace as hers- she looked down at herself, her hands furtively touching the under curve of her bust, and curiously fingering her bright red tips of her breasts. Her husband grunted over her, she was inadvertently putting on a very seductive display.

"Gods you're good...use those hands...on me." He rasped, putting his legs against bed frame with a bump. Sansa tinged, and his hands sort hers, guiding them to his half opened breeches, the laces were loose. _So much for 'one thing at a time.'_ And her long fingered hands tugged the laces from the trousers. Something was straining against the fabric, and from the top of the opening she saw traces of short black hair. _Oh my_. The young woman coyly dipped her hand into the split, biting her lip as her hand grazed...

" _It's feels so hot_." Her voice failed her, his growl had stifled her into submission. She grasped him with minimal digits and angled him nervously out of the gap- it sprung out like a drawbridge, pointing at the object of his desire. _Oh..it matched the rest of him_. She gathered herself, and leant to smooch the bell-end lovingly, and he hunched forward in surprise and gasped.

"-Gods!" He grunted with strain, and she retracted very quickly.

"Sorry!" She covered her mouth. "I should have-"

"-Wife." He reassured, removing her hand so he could thumb along her pretty lip. "Give me warning, love, I nearly went..."

"Don't be so pretty then." She smiled brightly up at him and it made his heart sing. Sansa noted the appendage was dripping. "Oh...I am sorry." _He was done?- No breaching required._

"No, that isn't-" Jon wasn't sure if she thought it was one or the other. "That's normal." He said vaguely, trying to shrug off the terminology and the reminder of her next duty. _Well she'll find out soon enough_. He stooped as if to pick something off the floor, but he snared her feet, he brought them up- forcing her to bend at the knee. She laughed, not knowing what he was doing, but the grip on her feet was ticklish. The King steered her, turned her body on the mattress, so she was aligned with the pillows.

"What are you doing, your grace?" She said amiably, and he hooked under her armpits again, she hooted at him- he had gone for a sensitive area. "Gods, Jon, I'm not a child." He dragged her onto the pillows, so she was finally lying properly on the bed.

"No, you're not." He said darkly, her face still looked gleeful- he hoped it lasted. This wasn't a broken traumatized girl before him, this was a beautiful woman with so much love to give, this was a blessing from the gods. _No, she was not a gift for him_. This was a goddess, and it was time for worship. He was a gift for her.

"Are you trying to tuck me in?" She commented, and she watched him kick off his breeches and clamber eagerly on to the bed after her, his still engorged pecker bouncing with him. She noticed and sobered. _Oh...well, what did you expect?- You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?_ Sansa curled up into a foetal position as he got over her, his face was full of earnest. Her feet felt his pectorals, as his inner thighs grazed the side of her buttocks. His hands enclosed around her ankles before sliding to the underside of her knees and thighs. _Oh_. The king parted her legs, so she was open for him. She tried to keep her face neutral, despite being contorted into an obscene position. When he surged forward she thought- _that was going to be it_. But he was merely leaning over her to kiss her gently.

"Put your hands on me." He whispered, remaining nose to nose with her.

She complied, one hand slunk around his upper back, and the other found the nape of his neck. The Queen was getting inundated with virile sights and aromas, and steam from his breath. _Hmm ale and mint_. The hair on his arm was standing on end, prickling into her shoulder and neck, for he had planted his hand firmly by her head _to lock her in place_. They hadn't started yet, but she clung to him like they had. His forehead nudged against hers as he tipped to look down at... _himself, and their 'soon to be connecting' parts._ It felt very imminent.

His hand disappeared between them, and she felt her toes curl in apprehension. " _Oh gods_." She said it so quiet, it was barely audible, but any louder, Jon would have heard the anxiety. _He might have stopped_. There wasn't much else she could do, but wait. The hand she had on his back began to tremble, so she fingered his curls to disguise it. Jon began to rub himself, against her, over her flower. His breathing was irregular as he did it. She understood after awhile what he was doing; he was coating himself with her moisture. The action was tingle inducing, especially when his bell-end jabbed against her nub. A stillness came, and he looked to her for inspiration. _Those dark eyes._ His back became taut under her hand, his bottom half surged forward...

He didn't know what he had expected. _Perhaps a moan, or a cry of pain?_ He studied her pretty face, undivided. Her breath had hitched- followed by a stunned silence - then nothing. _Oh gods- he had destroyed her_ , _with one poke_. He had no breath- and no voice to yield comfort. "Ssa-" He rasped, his own pleasure muting him. "Ssanssa?" He had to make sure that glassy stare was her feeling him, and not her sinking into darkness. His pelvis was hovering, quaking with the effort to hold back. He could continue, to sate himself, _but she would not be here_. "Fuck!" It came out like a cough, she was choking his tip, and he couldn't do anything. But suddenly Sansa blinked up at him. _Oh gods, she's still there._ Blue eyes that could drown a man, were baiting him. _You can move...you can love...you can fuck...neither are us are dead._ And so he sucked in his lips and pushed on. She made a quiet heavenly mewl noise as he went deeper. "That's it, my sweet." He crooned. It was sliding in easily, but he had to put a little bit of weight behind it half way, but the last inch thudded in, pelvis and buttocks connected with a pat, and they both expelled an exclamation. _He hoped that hadn't buggered it._

Sansa had felt the breach. _But_ _that was no breach, gods be damned!_ _That was..._ No words could describe it, and it was only the beginning. But all she felt was a gradual warm fullness, that stretched her nicely, and nudged against her womb in a way that it made her want more. Her skin hadn't tore, or tucked in, or puckered like it normally did when plundered dry. _But she was not dry, her handsome husband had saw to that_. Jon wouldn't make her bleed, he was too gentle, even if he did, it would only be an accident- _but she wouldn't care_. She would forego a heavy bleed just to feel Jon push into her for the first time, again, and again. _You Harlot!_

Only seconds had passed, and Jon was withdrawing from her slowly. She shuddered, her toes curling this time in anticipation. _Oh my Jon_. Sansa's fingers flexed against his trained body- she would claw to motivate him- _if she had to_. And her husband pushed himself in right to the hilt, uninterrupted this time, and a groan escaped him. She sensed his first time had been hesitant. _Bless him._ He drew out of her a little quicker this time, his eye line diverted to the extraction, checking for blood. _She assumed_. Jon did a roll with his hips, it allowed for speed and an angular penetration.

"Aa..aaa." That had been an agape moan that had escaped her, something he clearly liked, so he did it again, paying close attention to her face. Undivided attention was overwhelmingly passionate, she found herself humming at the love in his eyes.

Jon rolled out and rolled back in, getting a nice rhythm that didn't waver or reduce in pleasure. Her chest cavity with accompanying breasts swelled and heaved, against his leanness, as they harmonized their heavy breathing and exclamations. When he wasn't captivated by her flushed desire ridden face, he took a gander at her tits; jolting like firm blancmanges with cherries on top. His mouth would strain, just to taste them- it didn't affect his pace, or force.

Her husband had an oral fixation, _not that she minded._ But she wondered if it interfered with his daily routine.

"Aaaaa." He had hit her sweet spot again, _who'd have thought there was a hidden place in a woman that a man could press to could send them into disarray?_ He was a virile vision above her, she saw the muscles in his shoulders trying to hold himself off of her. The sweat gave him a sheen, it was starting to drip on her, she was sure she had some of her own, that gave her a glow.

Jon dropped to his elbows, so he was closer to her, still rolling into her with precision. He slipped his hands under her soaked back, lovingly embracing her. They kissed desperately, as if reminding each other they weren't just fucking out of duty. Their lips separated tackily, they remained close, noses nearly touching, and stealing each other's breaths.

"Can I get sharper?" He rasped, wincing at the ache in his own core.

 _She hoped it wasn't brutish_. She nodded urgently, their sweat nearly mingling on their foreheads. Jon began to thud into her with vigour, so much so, their bodies were generating percussion sounds, _well it was either them, or the bed they were on_. There was no distinction between the thrust and retraction, it was manic rutting. The Queen's neck was being cradled by her husband, as her head tipped back in ecstasy . He mouthed at her jaw with kisses, wetting right up to her ear. "Still here with me?" He whispered, and she barely spoke.

"My...my...my King." She screwed her face up at her body's urge to painfully arch against the mattress. Something was building in her core, it was close, like before, tingling in her nub and aching in her ovaries. The pitch of her mewls was getting steadily higher with every beat. _Oh oh_. "OH...OH...OH GOOOODS!" The ache was no longer an ache, it was a blinding burst of pleasure, that sent her body rigid, before convulsing against her husband. Her legs shook, and between them she felt a gush of fluid spill against her husband, and a puddle formed under her. _How embarrassing, she had peed._ "I'm..." She tried to explain herself, but she had no voice, she was too sated and out of breath. Tears prickled her eyes at the buzz and true happiness she felt. _Not even peeing the bed could dampen her spirits._ Jon held her throughout, as if guiding her back down to earth, he even consoled her when she started to cry.

"Ssh ssh, it's alright." Her husband cupped her face and kissed her forehead, he didn't want to steal her breath.

"W-what was-?"

"-Now that, was an orgasm." He rasped sitting up on his knees, he looked very cocksure and wild. Little curls of hair clung to his soaked forehead and neck. His torso appeared as toned as hell, it was as if he had been training for hours. His wife reached up and stroked the sweat from his abs, humming at her own good fortune.

"I've wrecked the sheets, my love."

His eyes hadn't lost their mischief, he flicked the hair from his face with a jerk. "Just imagine what they'll look like by morning." He leaned forward to dip himself in her again, she gasped.

"Have you not...?" She managed just about, realising she had forgotten the most important part.

"I was waiting for you." He said wolfishly, locking his hands either side of her head. "Can I?"

"Do I have a choice?- You can't waste a drop." She slipped her silky legs around him slowly, letting the heels of her foot graze his hard buttocks, and he raised a cryptic brow at her. Jon was just about to begin his _attack_ when Sansa lurched up to grab his shoulders, she steered and chucked him onto his back.

"Bloody hel-"

She straddled him like a Queen, silencing him. Sansa guided herself back onto him- with a sigh. He looked a little gormless- _though_ _it could have been awe._ Now she was on top, with a warrior King between her legs, she felt a blush adorn her cheeks. "Your grace." She bobbed her head.

And the King just looked extremely proud, his hands came to hips stroking down her thighs, goading her to begin. "Ruin me."

 _Right, what did he do?..He did a roll...could that work for her?- What did Melisandre do to Podrick?- They bounced._ Sansa used the muscle in her thigh to rise and fall, bobbing over his appendage. His lips parted, that proud boastful expression faded to one with a breathless and euphoric undercurrent.

"Sssansa." He rasped, his hands caressing up her body, massaging her breasts. _Oh seven hells_. She allowed her head to loll back, letting her body be at the mercy of his hands. Through this manoeuvre, she discovered her own hip rolling motion. She rolled over his cock like she was an eastern belly dancer. "That's...that's it." _If it really was 'it' then why was he wincing?_

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

"No... that's good...very...very...good." He creased his neck up to watch the contact, _her sweet bud devouring his..._.Jon dropped his head back, growling.

At first she were performing contained little rolls, which then became very elaborate rolls, where she arched every muscle in her torso; backwards, and forwards, _like she was rowing a very large boat_. His hands were ready to meet her at every dip, touching her, encouraging her. She sighed at the ministrations, that, and the penetration. _She always liked dancing, n_ ow _she was using it to choke her husband's..._ "Aaa...gods." His chest was spasming. _Perhaps she should get sharper?_ _He might get louder?_ She began to roll in circles, like she was spinning a hoop around her waist, it made her moan, _she was a genius. He thought so too._ "Aaa...fuck." His sighs and grunts were getting more breathy. Sansa got a little heavier, with sharp jerks, she stabilised herself on Jon's chest, which had become erratic. His sweat was making his torso slick under her hands. _What a beautiful man he was._ She was beginning to tire, her sharp rolls and jerks were becoming aggressive and pained. "Oh you...sweet...aaa...summer...child." He rasped, Jon must have been close, he sounded delirious.

Those callous hands, covering her breasts, were rolling her tips between his dangerous sword wielding fingers. She was biting her lips, and had drawn a little blood. Through squinting in ecstasy he saw her raw mouth, he stroked upwards, cupping her face, thumbing along her lip, pressing firm enough they tugged down.

"Oh Jon." She murmured feebly, her eyes hooded. His thumb lingered, so she took it into her mouth, sucking on it devoutly. _He liked that, he liked that a lot._

He wet his own lips, his dark look unwavering. _Those lips mouthed his thumb like it were a coc-_. "-Oh you beau- oooh gods." His pupils blew as a low rumble erupted from him. "Oooh gods." His pelvis quaked under her, his core tightened in preparation for a long overdue orgasm. Jon quelled a strangled groan. "Aaa fuck, I'm-!" He took a breath, and all the muscles and veins in his neck and face became visible, he went blue then red, mouth agape and wet with desperation. Sansa watched. _She better watch, this was a real man's end_. The King's lips pulled back from his teeth as his stomach and groin muscles contracted violently. "FUUUUCK!" It was a battle growl of immense passion and vigour as he came, long and hard. His cock pulsated and jerked as he emptied what felt like a month's worth of seed into her womb.

Sansa was aroused, but still blushed coyly by what it all meant, her head lolled to the heavens and back. She stroked his abs to soothe him, as his body trembled very much like her own. _That was wonderful_. It went slack as his sweat seeped into the sheets. The air was humming with the aftermath. His torso rippled beautifully with deep rattlely breaths, very tired, but very sated. He smiled up at her, and she lay down on him, listening to his rapid heartbeat. _Very much alive._ His arm slunk around her back, holding her there. "My King." She turned to rest her chin on him, he sensed her look at him and he lifted his head, eyes close and soul searching. "I love you." She whispered intimately.


	36. Chapter 36

I've just put this on- I haven't thoroughly checked it though. Still got to sort out internet at my new place.

* * *

Sansa woke up, feeling sticky. _It wasn't a bother to her. Well, it wasn't a good way to wake up- but there was a reason and it was a necessary evil for...progress._ _Odd how a beautiful act- 'yes she just referred to an act she once hated- as beautiful' – but it was funny how something so beautiful, was so messy_. She rolled over to her husband, he was still there, snoozing. Jon normally rose before her, _tired out perhaps?_ She blushed despite there being nobody present to observe or listen to her thoughts.

Sansa snuggled up to him, pulling the covers up to their chins- _well she took a quick peep beforehand._ She drifted off to sleep again with a smile on her face, serenaded by her husband's breathing.

She didn't know what time it was when she woke up, but she felt her mouth being kissed, it arose her from her slumber. Her lashes fluttered, and she stared into his eyes, silently. Her husband's silence was also unbroken, even when their faces split with serene smiles. Jon nudged up to her, butting her forehead, he was trying to get under her head- to feel it's weight, and absorb her essence from between her cheek and pillow. The presence of beard made her feel at home. _If only she could grow her own- oh Sansa, you're so silly._ She wanted to put both arms around him, she had to make do with one. But she made the most of it, stroking that toned back. He was doing the same, putting an extra bit of pressure, so their chests were flush against one another. They were still very naked, so the contact was warm, and arousing. _Yes, she can admit, this was certainly arousing._ Their faces levelled, they were nose to nose. They then kissed languorously, and rolled about, tangling themselves in the sheets. Sansa leaned back, her head hanging off the bed, eyes closed, enjoying his lip caresses. When she opened her eyes again with a hum, she found the sunlight misting the window, as if shining from directly above the castle. "Jon?"

"The answer is yes, always yes." Jon murmured into her flesh. "Morning, noon, and night." He placed a knee between her legs.

 _Oh, he wanted to take her again, please have mercy, this man would drive a septa wild with lust._ "I think you're right about 'noon.'" Sansa said, the sunlight mocking them.

"Huh?"

Sansa craned her neck from its slump off the bed. Jon looked like an animal this morning- and it sent her heart aflutter. "I think it's noon. Look." She stretched her arm up to point at the window above her head, her other arm followed when he failed to look, he had been busy studying her. But since both her arms were up, it accentuated her meatless chest cavity, and full breasts, untouched by age and sun. A part of her believed she had done it on purpose to goad him into another heated session. Her voice husked."We have slept away the morning, neglected our routine, what will they think of us?"

"Fuck 'em."Jon growled, and mouthed her bust zealously, she laughed at the descent into debauchery. "My duties consist of you." He rumbled over her nipple, and her laughter died into a breathy moan. The noises he was making were reminiscent of wolf pups playing; with mouthful growls and rumbles.

She only just managed to piece a sentence. "But still...my love...my maids have probably been by...and failed to get the door open... They will know...gods, they will know."

"And so they should!" He announced, burying his face between the mountains of milk and rose. Sansa was inciting him, ruffling his hair, and holding him there. "How am I 'to King'...with you...lounging in this chamber...hmm...waiting...for me." They had lost the ability to speak.

"We're...toxic."

"You're better than sweet-wine, wife." He finally left her bosom, staring at her heatedly. "Am I better than lemon cakes?"

"Don't you dare make me choose between you and my babies!" Sansa said with mock horror, and there was further descent into debauchery. He was grinding into her, preparing her for another...

 _KNOCK KNOCK._

 _FUCK!_ "What?!" Jon called behind him, still above and between his wife, she was looking at him, covering her mouth, to stifle her shameful hysteria.

"It's only me, Davos. Just to let you know- it's past noon..."

Jon rolled his eyes, he knew his advisor was merely snooping- and so he descended to peck his wife's lips, they pecked like birds, something he never would have done had he not known Sansa, and her gentle ways. _Gods, she had the beauty and sweetness of a maid, but the raw sensuality of a fertility goddess in need of sowing._ He was grunting again, and his wife gave him a tap on the cheek in warning, and pointed to the door.

"-We've had a raven back from the wall."

Jon and Sansa shared a look, lips still pursued."And?" They said in unison.

"It's still up." They sighed in relief, but Davos continued. "They're requesting more men, they grow anxious, the white walkers are visible from the wall, they have stalled- as if waiting for something...it certainly makes me edgy."

Jon held his wife in a embrace, but kept a void so he could reply to the older gent on the other side of the door."I will get around to doing that, perhaps you could send some guards to the neighbouring villagers to collect some miscreants? We might have to resort to sending my whole army to the wall, tell the men of my intentions..." The King waited for Davos to leave. He didn't. Jon drew back slightly to look at the door. _What's he want, a warrant?_

"I hope you both slept well, your graces, it appears we have a busy day."

The king sighed and got onto his knees over his wife. "Yes, very...restful." His wife reached up and pinched his nipple and he mouthed an elaborate 'Ouch' at her. He grabbed her hand, and of course, she had a spare, with which she cheekily went for his other nipple, while biting her tongue in a suggestive manner. "Ah." He uttered, and he snared the other hand, to restrain her. "You little-" _\- fertility goddess._

"-The Tarly party are getting restless, I think they are planning to head south for warmth."

"Alright, I suppose I can't stop them." He crossed her wrists across her chest and held them there, she was fighting to get to him, biting her lip to contain herself. "I take it Sam has tried to sway them, they aren't buying the whole white walker plight?"

"You'd be right, your grace." He had a chuckle in his voice.

Jon snared his wife's pillow and tucked it under her head, she twisted on it wondering - _why he had done that?_ "Is that all?" He clambered in between his wife's legs, kneeing them further apart. The sheets were rustling as Sansa playfully tried to free her arms. She wriggled like she was ticklish.

For Sansa, the bliss of last night still hung in the air, but she felt a little unclean. They were on damp sheets, and she had traces of 'stuff' around her intimate area. She supposed she would have to get use to that, but would that mean she had to be ready at all times for love making? _Like before_. _Stop that!- You're over that!_ _If your husband wants to bed you, let him bed you_. She felt she needed to be clean first, _shouldn't they have each other fresh?- He must not mind._

'Can I?' He mouthed at her, and she cocked her head in a adorable manner. "Can I?" He whispered.

"If you must." Glancing at the door.

Jon pulled a face. "Come on." His jovial manner crept into his voice.

"But I just said if you must, then do it." Sansa gave him a straight lipped smile.

"You had an odd tone."

Sansa screwed up her face. "I don't think so, I granted permission...how can I have a tone?" She did a little shimmy under him. "You're the one that normally has a tone." She brushed the hair on his arms, and he dipped to kiss her again.

"What's wrong?" His tone was sweet, and it put her at ease.

"I'm sticky." She said honestly, shimmying again. "It's...you know."

Jon frowned, and his hand disappeared between them, and she raised her head from the pillow to see what he was doing. She felt him fawn over her thighs, mound and then between. Her chest cavity heaved a little with the attention he paid to her flower. He was gently rolling his finger against her, watching her as he did the night before. "You feel alright to me, would you feel better if we did something first?"

That was a tone, a tone she liked; the heated one. And her breath hitched. "Erm..." She wet her lips. "C -could I just water why inner thighs?"

Jon's eyebrow quirked. "You may, but I don't mind tackiness Sansa, it has a purpose." He looked at her flower, it always made her blush when he looked at it with rapt interest. "I could use my tongue..." _Oh gods_. Sansa writhed on her pillow at the thought. "Would you like that?" He was good at the power of suggestion.

 _Cuss._ Sansa nearly voiced that little exclamation. Jon hands went to her breasts, and they complied- _the nipples that is._ She sucked in her lips to contain her moan, it came out as a blissful hum.

"That's a good sign." The King rumbled above her, she hadn't realised she had closed her eyes. "Now can I?"

They heard a cough, then- "Well...the Tarlys." Davos had hesitated for an alarmingly long time- as if he was listening, and they stalled in horror. _Oh shit!_ Sansa covered her mouth like a naughty child. "Their party are malingering-" When the advisor had started to speak, the King thrust into her, she cried behind her hand, she nearly moved off of the bed, the bed jolted and the headboard bumped into the wall. "Whoops, sorry about that, love." He whispered.

"It's alright." She rasped, her eyes squeezed shut.

The advisor stalled again, he had heard something. "The Tarlys wish to have an audience with you before they decide to leave...I'm assuming."

Jon gave a disgruntled sigh, and pulled out of his wife- she made a noise as the fullness left. "Fine, I'll come down."

"I'll call for a squire and a handmaiden."

"No need, we can manage, ser Davos, thank you." The man finally retreated, as did Jon from his wife. He smiled ruefully at her as he set his feet on the ground, she closed her legs politely, sitting up in her pretty ladylike way, despite being naked. "Can't they give me the day off? I'd rather spend it with you."

 _You mean 'in me._ ' Sansa pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts, tucking a strand of her hair sweetly behind her ear. He looked deliberately sad at her, she was turning the sheet into a dress, covering her body from his prying eyes. Sansa stood carefully, walking the chamber with her makeshift dress on, she heard her husband grumbling in his throat while watching her, until she disappeared around the divider.

Jon didn't agree with the move. "I was hoping you would stay in bed."

"What, waiting supine for you to come back and ravage me?" Now, she had a tone. "I have stuff to do as well."

"Can you help me get dressed, love?"

She looked shrewdly around the partition, he looked hopeful- and very naked, _why was she blushing?_ "Pass me my nightie." He skirted around, and found it on the floor, he crossed the room with it. She held out an expectant hand, which he ignored and came around the divider. "Oh Jon." He was unabashed with his nudity.

"Oh yes, let me assist you." He fingered the blanket she was holding to herself, and she finally let it drop. They both stood nude behind the divider, like something out of a painting. He made a hole for her with the nightie and pulled it over her head. "There, do you feel better?" He was still eyeing her through the sheer material, and she flushed. He smiled. "Gods Sansa, why are you getting embarrassed?- You sweet thing."

"Your turn." She shambled out into the chamber, with her husband following close, still fingering her hip and stomach. She stopped to pick up his trousers, and he walked into the back of her. _Rammed into the back of her_. "Oh!" She snapped up. "Jon dear, must you behave like a beast?"

"Yes." He swivelled her around and pulling her flush against him. "You've woken the dragon." She could feel what he meant, his 'dragon' was pressing onto her...'wolf?' "Go on, ruin me again." He rasped into her face, and she drowned him with her big blue eyes. "Oh my sweet." Her eyes were wonderful.

"But the Tarlys want to see you now."She made it worse by stroking his arms. "I don't want a rushed rough love making session." She drew back and pushed him down onto the hope chest, he sat on his sword and sheath by accident.

"Aah." He pulled it out from under him and dropped it onto the floor. "You spur me, woman."

"You spur yourself, man."

* * *

They had assisted each other with their clothes. It had taken twice as long as usual. Jon kept taking stuff off like an irritable child; both his and her clothes. The Queen was fighting to stay dressed, but her laughter was encouraging. _Stop giggling, he likes it._ When they were finally dressed, they dwindled to their areas of the room for the final stages of grooming.

"You know you can ask for it, yer' know? No shame in a woman asking." He was tying his hair back into a bun.

Sansa was brushing her hair, staring at him in the mirror. "Ask for what?"

"You know." _He wasn't stupid_. _Sansa had spent the early afternoon, brushing past him and stroking the stomach of her bodice, and dropping things...just so she could pick them up. It was tactical, she was touchy feely in bed, but once they were up, she didn't do anything other than titillate_. _Oh, she was playing with him._ "You are allowed to approach me when we're dressed, in the middle of the day, and tell me ...you have...a craving."

Sansa did a swivel, just so she could flick her locks in that flirty manner, _he believed_. "But they ran out of lemons, Jon." She blinked as she had made a valid point. "No lemons, no cake- I only will have lemon cake, it's all I crave."

Jon snorted. "You're very good." He said darkly, with an amiable lilt. She continued brushing her hair, it inflamed him. "I know what you're doing, you want me to be the one to press you- so you feel like you have regained some of your dignity or virtue, my sweetness." It rumbled out of him, sensually. His cock was hurting again. "You are my wife, you are entitled to ask me, gods be damned!"

"A Queen doesn't beg." She murmured so quietly, the King had to replay the rumble to gather what she had said.

"You took control last night, do it again, that isn't begging."

Her eyes had wavered between wide and narrow, as if realising he had heard. "Maybe, but not now...no."

"Well maybe I should leave you here to stew in your own lust?" He made it final he was going to leave, by putting on his gloves. The action made her pause, she watched him flex his hand in the leather, he followed her keen eye. _He didn't think something so tedious and simple as gloves could capture a woman's rapt concentration._ Jon gave her a quizzing smile. "Maybe I should leave them on next time, would you like that?"

It was as if Sansa had been patted heavily on the cheek, she jarred and flushed. "What?- What do you mean?- Next time for what?...Wait-what have the gloves got to do with this?"

* * *

Sam and Davos couldn't stop chortling. The portly gent peered over the balcony, trying to be subtle in his objective. "Look at him!...It's like he's sprouted wings." He was tickled pink, it was a contagious ailment, Davos was grinning abashed as well.

"Stop it." The older gent dragged him away from his stare. "There's only a slight difference...only because you've pointed it out. I saw no obvious change, he still looks...like Jon."

"Moody and broody?" Sam eased, and shook his head. "No..." He was adamant, he tipped his head. "Look at that skip."

Davos studied his King in the courtyard, and snorted. "Well bugger me." Jon had his normal stormy walk but after every forth stride- there was a bounce, before swaggering back into the march. "It's like he's trying to find rhythm in the middle of a dance."

The two men should have been working, _but this was too fun_. "He wouldn't be able to do that skip if...he still had a heavy load." Sam was very suggestive.

It amazed the advisor how easy it was for this shy gent to be so crude. "I was worried." Davos began, his companion looked shrewd. "I mean with the act, not the King's...load."

"He would have been fine, and he was...look at him." The young man saw his friend begin up a stair that led to their wing of the castle.

"I was worried for Sansa." Davos elaborated. "The Queen isn't keen...and she could have changed her mind at any moment."

"Oh, of course." This was sobering. "He wouldn't have hurt her, you know?- He's quite reserved..."

Both men shared a peculiar look and started chortling again. "Yeah right!"


	37. Chapter 37

"Some aggressive words were exchanged." The air was rife with excitement, but the advisor didn't understand how a man could be excited over an argument with his family.

"I was there, I heard everything."

"Yes, but you weren't part of the argument." Sam continued to explain a talk which had happened an hour before. "And finally he negotiated that he could return south and fight from his stronghold-"

"-All pomp so your father doesn't feel slighted." Davos concluded, the Tarlys were proud, and Jon had learnt to use the pride positively, and not to spite. "The King did very well."

"And I got to keep Heartsbane, and my secret weapons..."

"Loan of Heartsbane." The older gent corrected, watching the man wave the prized sword like it was some toy. "I don't believe Lord Tarly planned for you to keep it, the negotiation was an unstable one. He probably thinks the plight is a fantasy, and he'd get back the sword once everybody becomes disillusioned with the idea. A bit of a risk, I'd never let that sword of my sight."

"Well that's why my brother is sticking around a bit longer." Sam added, and his companion shifted uncomfortably.

"Aye." The advisor recalled what the younger man had said earlier. " Secret weapons?..."

"Well it's no secret, it's a special type of glass -Oh look, the Queen's coming." Sam nudged in the direction of the tower stairwell. Sansa was being chaperoned by a maidservant. Sansa always had a gift when it came to composure, so if she had done something different the night before, _and noon,_ she could carry on as normal. Though Sam hadn't known her for long, he noticed her resting facial expression was anxious, she looked anxious at that very moment, talking to her maidservant. No one would have ever known this woman had been bedded by a King. "Look...stairwell...there."

Davos nodded. "So she is, she is glowing." They both seemed to hum. "I think she is carrying." _And it was obvious what he meant._

"I bet you..." The young man became sly. "He'll notice her."

The advisor shrugged. "So?" He clasped his hands in front of him. "Why shouldn't he?" The young man was a little dim. "If he does, he does, it's actually certain he'll notice her, I don't think he's going to stop his little training session."

"We shall see." Sam said that in a wise foreboding manner, that made the older gent smile. "Half a groat, says he'll stall, 1 groat says he'll stop the session all together."

Davos blinked up at the heavens, before turning on his friend. _They were supposed to be working_. "You don't get two chances, mate, you get one guess, and besides- what if he stalls the session for another reason, other than his wife?- Am I to hand over my cash for a mere technicality?"

The portly gent bit the inside of his cheek. "Fine, he interrupts the session completely because of his wife, 1 groat."

"And I gain a groat if he doesn't?" The advisor insinuated. "Even if he stalls the session for something else?" And his companion nodded, the older man sighed in resignation. "We should be working."

"This is work, I monitor the well-being of the King and Queen."

"You're trying to make money out of them." His friend corrected, imploring him to see they weren't doing anything worthwhile.

"Paid work, Ser, paid work...hehe." Sam leant on the beam. He avidly watched Sansa talk to the maid, gesturing delicately at different walkways. _She had become a proper mistress of the household_."Come on...carry on walking."

Davos looked shrewdly at the man before him, it occurred to him he was trying to magically influence the Queen to walk into Jon's line of sight. "If she had heard that you would be in trouble, and...cheating." He found the whole scenario funny, a man trying to win a bet by doing nothing but observe and do an open commentary. "She's busy, he's busy."

Sam rapped his fingers on the beam. "Come on, down the hall...yes, she's moving." He was gleeful as Sansa dismissed the maid and began walking down the external corridor that led onto the courtyard. "She's on the earth." He pointed at the mud, he furtively looked at Davos, then back to the yard. Jon was talking with a mighty shield in his grasp, he was in lecture mode, and certainly wasn't stopping. "Put the damn shield down." The portly bookworm chuntered, as Sansa crossed the outskirts of the yard, within 30ft of the King, who was talking animatedly.

The advisor grinned. "She's not even going to him. I don't even think she knows he's there, they're both oblivious." He watched Sansa continue to trudge through the mud, her petticoats becoming hemmed with dirt, Podrick appeared at her side, and they were walking in sync to the battlements, until he veered off to the side as if following a command.

Sam sighed heavily. "Gods, you'd think he'd sense her presence."

"Maybe he does and he's not doing anything about it, he's busy. Do you expect him to wave like some fool?" The older man turned his back on the scene with his arms folded. "Perhaps the consummation has calmed him down? Purged him of lust."

Sam stared off at the gradual undoing of his prediction, and said goodbye to his bet. "I think you might be right...they're like a normal married couple, devoid of passion and interest. The duty has been done and..." Davos noted Sam stare profoundly at the battlements. "Hello...what have we here?" Davos listened. "Sansa can see him, she went up there for a better view." He had a snarky tone, and was very gleeful.

The advisor swivelled and saw Sansa leaning on some fencing heavily, looking down into the pit. Her hair was spilled over one shoulder, busts resting on her folded arms that were supporting her weight on the fence. "The bet wasn't about Sansa looking." He argued, getting a nervous tickle in his throat when he saw the Queen play with her hair in full view of everyone.

The maestor gestured at the object of their bet. "You'd have to be mad not to see that, look at what she is doing?"

"Yes, I see it." He eyed the King in the courtyard. He was still busy, still doing his little demonstration, and Jon indicated to one of the squires and goaded him in sparring. "Thank heavens."

"I believe...He is trying to impress his lady."

"Nope, he was going to spar anyway. But even so..." He raised two fingers to list the things that went against his bet. "He didn't stall, or abandon training for her." He noted Sansa doing a rocking motion, emphasising bust. _Oh lords, he shouldn't be looking!_ "He can't see a thing, or he doesn't care." They watched the display, both Jon's fighting, and Sansa being... titillating. Jon was fiercely defending himself against the sparring swords, doing elaborate and unnecessary manoeuvres- reminiscent of water dancing. Davos was concerned, this was Jon showing off. _He could definitely see her...maybe._ He wasn't sure if Sam had figured it out, he might think the session was a normal session. Jon did a little swagger as he circled the armed squire.

"Gods be good, it's like being at castle black all over again." The young man leaned further forward, the move attracted the attention of the Queen and he straightened, as did she. As if they had both been caught out. "Bugger, I think she knows we're looking."

Davos was craftily looking another way, and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "She thinks you're looking, I on the other hand am not."

"She's stopped shimmying." Sam said while averting his eyes, he made it sound ominous and important. "She knows we know." Sansa flicked her cape shut and walked off. "No no no." The portly man turned his back. "You don't think she's mad, do you?- Maybe a little embarrassed...if she was you know." He did a suggestive rub with his hands.

"Don't be daft...And never do that again." The advisor then saw something in the corner of his eye. _Oh hells._ Jon was on the move, he had handed his shield over to another squire, and was dismissing himself, to rush off. "Threatening skies overhead." He was attempting to keep the younger gent's attention away from the courtyard. He craftily spotted The King going in the direction Sansa had gone. Davos gestured at the skies. "That's a thunder storm rolling in."

"Maybe, it won't affect..." Sam turned to look down into the yard. "What the-?" His friend kept his face devoid of worry. "Did he leave?!" the former member of the night's watch scoured the scenery, surprised, before a triumphant lilt came to his voice. "Hm...interesting, they are both nowhere to be found." A cheeky smile adorned his face.

"Actually you missed a manservant coming to collect him." He lied, his face as serious as the day was long. "It didn't look urgent."

"If it was, you'd be there as well." The younger man was sceptical.

* * *

Sansa walked as fast as she could down the external corridor, she sensed she was being followed, her steps were in time with her rapid heartbeat. _It wasn't as if she was trying to escape, well maybe... the situation was weird...she just didn't like being watched. She hadn't done anything wrong!_ She ascended the stairwell and stopped to look back around, after a moment, Jon filled the bottom space, looking up at her expectantly. "Yes?"

That was her husband that had spoken, not her, though she would have said the same. "You followed me." Sansa had little earnest in her voice, after all, her husband had obviously left a training session to seek her out. _Perhaps it was...?_ A whistle broke her thought process, and the Queen looked down to see him creeping up the stairs, whistling at her like she was a dog. _Bringing her to heel?_

She gave him a defiant look and carried on to her destination. _Where was she going?_ Sansa turned into the library, her story was long overdue an ending- and she had the perfect end. Jon was in hot pursuit _._ The King inspected the immediate area as she came to a table, he appeared to be checking and listening out for other occupants. _For some reason- this excited her_. She took her cape off, in order to hang on the back of a chair, Jon finished off the job for her, and she noted he looked dead set on staying. _Not that she would complain_. "You are actually going to do a bit of reading?" She was condescending and her tune changed when he pulled out a chair. "Oh, how nice." She was about to sit in it, when he suddenly slunk into it- and she ended up on his lap. "Oh...really now, I feel like a tavern wench...again."

He bounced her, he was in one of those playful moods, _though when wasn't he in a playful mood?_ But the vibe was different, she wasn't a nervous wreck about it. He was staring at her bust jolting with his bouncing knee, _so they were moving at his will_. He whistled again.

"You aren't taking away the tavern ambience." She oozed and he stalled whistling to smile up at her. "Can't you be moody, like you use to be?"

His whistling was good, very jovial and cheerful. _What was he playing at?_ So Sansa humoured him, she pressed into his front, curling up, to engage him, with her smile dripping with mirth. Her hand came up to finger the edges of his beard, and she circled his pursed lips, she nearly dipped her finger into his orifice. The proximity of her finger caused the whistling to stop.

"I knew you had a craving." He rumbled, looking into her eyes with an uncontrollable amount of intent, his arm circled to encase her.

"Craving?- I came to the library, I crave writing."

"You came to the courtyard to watch me train." He fingered her sleeves, probing the embroidery. "To see me in action...again, to get some action for yourself...again." His eyes drooped as he set his sights on her mouth. "Just ask." He whispered, puffing warm air onto her mouth.

"It's daytime." _That wasn't a valid argument._

Jon shrugged at her. "We could bolt the door." That rumble was intoxicating.

"The library doesn't have a bolt." A meekness creeping into her voice.

The King simply smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then we shall be quick and quiet."

She shoved against him. "You would take your Queen in a library?!"

"Anywhere...anytime."

Sansa expected him to wink, and he didn't. _Though he wasn't good a winking._ "I'm not risking that...you're only thinking this way because your blood is up, you've been sparring." She tried to get up, but he had her like a vice, he jostled her back against him. "Jon!"

"I wish you could see the fire in your eyes." Her husband began, looking very arrogant at his wife's defiance."You spurned me, again, you tempt me with your wiggles and smiles-"

She felt a flutter, _he had noticed_."-That's what men see, women aren't actually doing that, they are merely living."

The king laughed, it fed the Queen's soul. "You were after my attention, now ask me."

She took a breath. "We can canoodle." She deliberated in a clinical way, that didn't give away her longing.

"I'll take it." He nodded in accordance. "But ask me properly...and nicely."

Sansa couldn't understand how a suggestion didn't sound nice, and how was it not a request?- She formed a better alternative in her head, but she hated how it sounded, it sounded like begging, it made her feel- "Maybe now is a bad time."

"Noo." He nearly broke into song, he pulled her close. "Ask me, and we can go somewhere else...I don't know how often we will be able to do this, since we might be heading to castle black."

The air was still, Sansa did a small recoil- Jon made it difficult, he was holding her firm. "I thought you were sending others? Why yourself?"

"That should be our stronghold against the white walkers, first defence, I need to be there."

She shifted uncomfortably in his lap. "I suppose they don't allow fornication or bed sharing at castle black. There is a rule, I take it? Hence why we won't be able to...you know. You're trying to get a honeymoon's worth of...you know."

Jon did a nasal huff. "You can say it, it's just a word." He was cuddling her, and she fit her head on his shoulder. "I don't know how long we will be there, but I'll make sure everything's taken care of here...at your end."

Sansa blinked, she heard it, and was not sure if to comment – she didn't want to sound stupid. "So I'm..." Jon pulled at her head, to get her up from his shoulder, so he could see her face. "-Staying in Winterfell." _He had had his way with her and now he was scarpering._

He fingered her face. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

Her smile was sad but sweet. Bittersweet. When she tried to get up this time, he let her, her skirts rustling off him, leaving him cold. Sansa grimaced at the thought of being alone in a Winterfell. In charge of the castle, and if anyone visited, she would be their host. She wet her lips, getting ready to change the subject. "Are you going to send some rangers to look for Bran?"

Jon arose from his seat with a creak. "Definitely, even if I have to go myself...which would most likely happen."

"And...the ice dragon?"

"I'm not sure about that." His eyebrows rising and falling rapidly. "It's a grey area, but I'll keep my eye on the skies." He tugged at his tunic, surveying the books and charters on the table. "I'll head off tomorrow."

"So soon." She felt like crying, but there was anger in her bosom. _The white walkers had ruined everything._ "I suppose it was good timing for me to get frisky?" She said absently. "I had finally got comfortable...I suppose if ...we...If they know we're in the bedchamber, they will know what we're doing...so... here in the library." Sansa cagily looked about her and finally picked up a chair to put against the door.

Her husband was smug. "I knew it." He reached for her again, stroking his hands around her waist. "You don't have to get all embarrassed about people knowing, we're married." The smile reached his eyes. "I just wanted you to ask me, so I wasn't being a typical man, and forcing myself on you." His hands were tantalizing, stroking, and Sansa suddenly wanted to be naked again. _But don't get naked in a library_. "Hello nipples." She blushed at her husband's comment, it amazed her what he could see through thick layers, he brought his hands up to fondle her, her body was being jostled with his efforts. Sansa felt herself being reversed into stone. "I wanted to give you a leaving present; a part of me." He rumbled, and he moved into her space, stealing her mouth, she desperately clung to him as she kissed him back, he snared his mouth away cruelly to wander to her neck, she shuddered with desire.

"Erm..." She was thoughtless and breathless. "You mean...erm... a baby, right?"

His voice was muffling against her skin, it tickled. "Yes, definitely."

"But last night ...erm." Her eyes were wet with lust. "-Could have been... successful?" _Oh sweet beard_. "What if ...oh gods...you...erm... dislodge something?"

Jon chuckled darkly. "You do realise, my cock doesn't go that far up?"

 _How rude_. Sansa gasped. "Gods, I know that...but you...put my body through..." Jon was moving down her, his breath blasting over bust and then the fabric of her tummy. "...that thing you do to me." Her legs were bending- she wasn't sure if it was her or Jon, but he was lowering her to the floor. Her skirts inflated around her. "-You might force the..." Her face was already flushed from the activity, but she blushed at the words in her mind. "- force the...planted seed out."Her back was against the floor, her legs shaking with anticipation.

He was rummaging through petticoats, chuckling at her words. "I don't think it could fall out so easily...but if in doubt-" His eyes were dangerous, dangerously loving and eager to satisfy. "-I'll shove a new one back in."

 _He had a way with words, her dear husband._

* * *

It felt a little different from last night, but not bad different, it had a little force behind it. Jon rumbled his content above her, while she hitched out a tiny mewls at every thrust. They had a time constraint, and they were trying to get the release quickly. Davos or the handmaidens could come by at any moment, and they had to be done and dusted, to not let on what they had been doing. She bit her lip to stifle herself, the _servants could be on the stairs or in the hall._ Her hands were stroking the floor beneath her, it felt like it was vibrating.

He leaned over her, his head hovering over the gap above her shoulder, their ears brushed as he continued to push against her. They were still clothed, her petticoats had been bunched up, and her legs were bent up and feet off the ground either side of her husband, in order to receive...

Jon was very throaty, and began to speak to her, brokenly, she could just make out his laboured rumbles into her ear. "Get...there...before...me...come...on...woman...get...there...now." It sounded aggressive, but it was merely his effort driving into her. "Ssanssa...I'm close." His wife could tell. "-Are you...close...sweetheart?" He gasped, sounding pained and desperate. "Come on."

She believed she was, she would be happy even if she wasn't close to completion. Sansa brought her hands from the floor and wrapped them around him. "If you must, Jon." She rasped, it wouldn't have come out otherwise. "Just let it happen." Her whisper licked his ear, and he murmured in anguish. His thrusts got very angular, and his breath rattled through her, and he suddenly stalled. The arms and hands that he used to hold her firm, suddenly tightened. His climax was more subdued than his first, for he remembered he was in a library. _Thank heavens_. His moan was still heart wrenching despite it being toned down from the roar, he murmured his content as he shuddered his love out and into her.

When he was done, his body nearly fell on her, it took him a lot of restraint to hold himself up. Jon rose, and the young Queen exhaled as she felt his warm fullness leave her. Her hands were balled up in a defensive manner as he climbed off of her. His callous hands gently clasped her wrists and he helped her to her feet, but she buckled and fell, her legs weren't ready to be used, and the King caught her. "Whoops." Jon winched her back up. "Sit down, love." He guided her down into the chair that was against the door. He studied her dishevelled form, she looked ravaged and flushed, it made him feel a tinsy bit proud. "You'll be alright." He soothed, ruffling her hair to his heart's content.

She blinked up at him, looking a lot like a child. "It's a very messy ritual, isn't it?"

Jon smiled at her honesty. "Not the bad kind...There's only one way to make an heir." His finger caressed her face to soothe himself- his heart was still racing, and he was damp with sweat. "If we make it back to the chamber, we could give each other a sponge bath."

 _It seemed like a reasonable excuse to get naked. They should forget the castle and all duties, just spend the day cuddling, for winter was here, and her husband was leaving in the morning. She hoped her womb and babe would quicken, like her mother's, when her father had left for war._

The End...?


End file.
